


Beneath Humanity

by SuggestiveScribe



Category: Haikyuu!!, The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us, Blood, Fire, Gore, Intense Graphic Violence, It's not present yet but I'll add it for safety:, M/M, MAJOR. CHARACTER. INJURY., Major Character Injury, No knowledge of The Last of Us required to read; I got your back, Once more with feeling:, Please keep your eyes on the tags this is going to get ugly, blah blah blah porn stuff, characters and couplings added by appearance because spoilers, the fic no one wanted me to write and yet here I am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/pseuds/SuggestiveScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oppression bears down within the walls, infection spreads beyond them, and a bunch of idiots think they can battle both.<br/>And win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have nothing to say for myself.

I

"Oikawa."

Oikawa glanced up from his book-- some old text on microorganisms he's read before-- and was met with Kuroo's familiar gaze. Familiar, and yet very different.

His eyes were bright and flashing, a reined in sort of excitement and expedience working behind the gold of his irises. Oikawa closed his book without hearing another word, exhaling his sentence as his heart tumbled over into a quicker pace, "What is it?"

"I've found it," Kuroo said, and before Oikawa was done blinking Kuroo's voice and spine dipped lower, leaning in toward Oikawa, "I _have_ it."

Oikawa stood, pushing his seat back with the backs of his knees. "Does Kenma know?" Oikawa asked in almost a whisper, hands moving over the cover of his book to delicately take it into the cradle of his hands.

"No," Kuroo said, glancing around, "I'll alert him when we leave."

Oikawa just nodded, legs moving in long strides over to the crowded bookshelf to replace his text. When he made eye contact with Kuroo they both nodded once, curt and understanding, and started walking toward the doors of the makeshift library.

Kuroo was in his military gear, spackled black and gray camouflage covered with a heavy vest and a nightstick holstered at his belt. He still had extra armor covering the entirety of his right shoulder and arm, but his riot helmet was nowhere in sight. He hated the thing, anyway.

As they walked Kuroo's boots clinked heavily against the floor. It reminded Oikawa that their footsteps were a bit hurried. As they crossed through what might have once passed for a lobby Kenma was there, stationed at the record keeper's desk like he usually was.

When Kuroo said he would alert Kenma apparently he had meant so in the most subtle sense. He blinked over at Kenma, just a passive sideways glance before turning his vision forward once more and pushing through the front doors with Oikawa.

And yet Oikawa saw the shift, the barely perceptible tilt in Kenma's body that showed that he knew, he understood. It was a sort of telepathy shared between none but them.

Oikawa wanted to ask a million questions but he knew it best to stay quiet as they walked.

The streets were scattered with grit and garbage and loiterers. It was always this way before nightfall, just before the curfew hit and people were forced into the barren dankness of their apartments.

"Will Iwa be there when we get there?" Kuroo asked, eyes on a constant slide through his field of vision, surely a habit acquired through work and necessity. Iwa-chan did it too.

"Probably not," Oikawa answered, eyes hopping past broken stares and too-apprehensive conversations on the side of the street. Kuroo's presence next to him was a foreboding cloud to everyone on the outside. The military was more of a terror than a comfort. Oikawa huffed a breath, "Iwa-chan had a pretty tense deal going tonight."

Kuroo tilted his head to glance at Oikawa out the side of his eyes, "Will he need help?"

Oikawa pursed his lips, "Do you think I would have let him go alone if I thought he would need me?"

"Touché."

"Plus you can't be seen in the underground Kuroo, we've had this conversation."

Kuroo lightly tugged his handkerchief up over his mouth, the black cloth covering everything but the gold of his eyes, "They wouldn't even know."

"He'll be fine," Oikawa reiterated. He tried not to think about how bloody he had come back last time. Bloody, but successful.

"Is he still..." Kuroo's sentence trailed off.

Oikawa's lips were pinching into a straight line again, his legs working to move over the litter and uneven crack of pavement beneath his feet. "He's still against it, of course," Oikawa answered lowly. Bitterly.

"He's just worried," Kuroo told him, rasping voice barely muffled beneath the fabric.

Oikawa's eyes were anchored somewhere, unseeing. Everything bled together anyway; gray streets, gray sky, gray concrete wall eating the horizon and corralling them all inside. " _I'm_ worried," Oikawa finally said. "That he won't..."

Kuroo's eyes went incredulous as they turned to look at Oikawa, "You can't actually think he wouldn't come."

Oikawa huffed a breath, "I can't tell how stubborn he's going to be about it."

Kuroo rolled his eyes.

"What!?"

He shook his head, not making eye contact with Oikawa, "If you think he would let you leave him behind to go off and get killed, then you're an idiot."

Oikawa's lips pulled down, "Iwa-chan is constantly asserting that I'm an idiot."

"I don't disagree with him."

Oikawa coughed out a pout, "You two are so rude."

Oikawa almost saw Kuroo's brow knit together before he heard the noises, the thud of blunt force against bones and lungs.

"Hey!" Kuroo barked, shoulders suddenly more back and broad, gait suddenly moving like his legs were made of energy ridden steel.

Oikawa's eyes shot over to the soldier on the side of the street, hand around a civilian's throat with the short end of his nightstick aimed in toward his gut.

He froze at Kuroo's voice, him and his cackling friend blinking over to Kuroo with a very sudden lack of amusement.

"What's the issue?" Kuroo demanded, feet planting into the ground next to them as he leaned forward with something close to anger in his eyes.

"Stealing, sir," the officer with the hand squeezing the pink out of the civilian's face said.

Kuroo's eyebrow twitched up, "And so literally choking him half to death seemed necessary because...?"

The guard immediately retracted his hand, the civilian collapsing to the ground in a heap of wheezes and coughs.

"He attempted to flee, sir," the other reported dutifully. Frightfully.

Kuroo turned his eyes to the other with an expression so dry and bitter that it looked like it actually sucked the moisture from the officer's face.

"Yeah," he droned. "Take him in. Subtract his rations. Do your job."

"Yessir."

"Yessir."

The civilian looked up at Kuroo in a way that might have been thankful if he hadn't been busy twisting in pain. Oikawa felt his own features morphing into something dark.

Kuroo shot Oikawa a glance over his shoulder, tilting his head to the side, "Let's go."

As they started walking there was a slight cough from the men behind them, "Captain's gettin' soft."

Kuroo slowly closed his eyes as they marched forward, "I fucking hate this place."

"We all do," Oikawa said, gaze locked forward, "that's the point."

#

"Here."

Kuroo was already working off his vest as Oikawa moved to fling the door of the apartment shut. Kuroo dropped it to the floor heavily, the yellowed laminate vibrating under the weight.

"Heathen," Oikawa chortled as Kuroo pulled something from under his military shirt.

Kuroo flicked Oikawa's ear as he walked up beside him, eliciting a small chirp of pain from Oikawa as his hands slid out against a roll of paper, unfurling it over the surface of the table. "This," Kuroo said, "is everything we needed."

Oikawa blinked, feeling his eyes go wide and shining as he looked down at the document. His fingers shivered over the curled map and blueprints, fingertips sliding over patches of ink.

"I can't believe it," he whispered.

Kuroo's smirk broke unevenly across his face, "I can."

Oikawa's gaze swept over the paper in front of him. It was a map-- a set of them-- with a spread of prefectures and cities surrounding them. And, most importantly, it charted the infected.

"All of these," Kuroo said, pointing to blocky symbols, "are quarantined military police states like our own." His fingers slid out, opening up to a tinted range marked around each one, "And these are the areas that went through the bombing and firefights to clear the infected."

"Like what you and Iwa-chan did down south," Oikawa responded vaguely.

"Yes," Kuroo affirmed, motioning to the zone surrounding the Quarantine down south, "Like what Iwa and I did down south." Kuroo cleared his throat, "I think all of the zones are supposed to go through a standard clearing every now and then like ours does."

"These," Oikawa said with a point, "what are these?"

"All of the cities that have been investigated are marked with three ranges," Kuroo explained. "The value of the resources within, the threat of the infected, and," his finger slid to one with a range hurriedly marked in orange, "the threat of rebel survivors."

Oikawa frowned, "There aren't very many with the threats labeled."

"Yeah well," Kuroo said, flipping the map over for a moment and pointing to a chart of numbers, "when there are infected or rebel survivors, most of the military force was killed." Kuroo shifted slightly on his feet, "It wasn't worth it after awhile, I guess."

Oikawa could practically see Iwa-chan's glare and he wasn't even here to give it to him.

"But," Kuroo said, sensing the tensing of Oikawa's spine, "previously cleared and marked safe areas are all laid out." He turned the map over, fingers hitting against multiple locations, "Small towns, abandoned military settlements, even." Kuroo's eyes rose to meet Oikawa, "Strongholds, Oikawa. Just like you and Kenma said." His eyes fell back to the paper, "Somewhere a colony could flourish. Without the oppression."

Oikawa swallowed.

"These," Kuroo tapped at the legend, "mark where they found pockets of spores."

Oikawa's eyes bounced from one mark to the next, "Everywhere underground is a disaster."

"Basically."

"We knew that already though," Oikawa said running his hand once through his hair. "The spore density will always be an issue underground or in closed off buildings. We just have to prepare for it."

Kuroo straightened his back, "Yeah those fuckers die and can still kill you."

Oikawa's lips almost tilted up with a bitter sort of awe, "They're the perfect invasive species."

"Great," Kuroo remarked dryly.

Oikawa almost laughed then, "We'll figure it out."

Kuroo's lips pulled down, "I wish I had more experience killing them, so we would be little more prepared..."

"I'm sure Kenma would disagree," Oikawa cut him off. "You and Iwa-chan had enough experience. We'll do fine." _Because we have to_.

There was a light knock at the door. Oikawa and Kuroo didn't even glance at each other. Kuroo just moved to open it, knowing exactly who he'd see.

"You have it?" Kenma asked lowly as he stepped through the door, shoulder bag tucked against his side.

"Yes," Kuroo said with a fond smile down at him.

"That was quick," he commented as he set his bag down and moved over the table.

Kuroo shrugged, "I had your help."

Kenma stared down at it, "Extensive."

"Yes."

Kenma ran his hand over it, gold eyes pouring over every line, sliding down roads and over bases like he could see inside them. "I'll draw a copy."

Oikawa furrowed his brow, "What? Won't that take a long time?"

Kenma shook his head, strands of hair moving over his shoulders. Just the very ends were blonde now, the rest a dark brown all the way to his roots. "I'll feel better," Kenma said, tilting his head at the paper like it entranced him, "once I've redrawn it. Then it will stick." He leaned over and started pulling materials out of his bag. "Then I can memorize it," he breathed.

Kuroo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter, "Can I give one to Bo?"

Kenma nodded once, "I'll draw two."

"Kenma!" Oikawa gasped, "you need to rest too."

"I won't be able to sleep," Kenma told him evenly, "not with all this staring at me."

"Yeah but kitten," Kuroo said lightly, "we only need one."

Kenma shook his head this time, "We need an extra. Things happen."

Kuroo looked at him in disbelief, "You'll have one _in your head_."

Kenma purposefully didn't look at him, "People get separated, Kuroo."

They all stood in very pointed silence. Kenma was even. Lucid. He was realistic, and he was not planning on a smooth journey. Oikawa knew that, but separation was the most primary thing to avoid.

Separation and infection.

Kenma's eyes slid upward, the pessimism in the air a very obvious reminder. "Where's Hajime?" he asked.

"He'll be home right before curfew," Oikawa answered.

Kenma's eyes went back to the map, "Tooru, let's choose now. Get the coordinates so we can tell Koutarou and Keiji."

Oikawa nodded, "Did you see?" Kenma straightened for a moment to glance at him. "The place you had read about in the old records," Oikawa said with a small smile, "it's there. It's perfect."

This time when Kenma looked at the map, his lips warmed slightly.

"This is getting very real very fast," Kuroo said, eyes stationed on the map. Then he smirked, face suddenly cut in half with the deviousness of his grin, "I can't wait for Iwa to get back."

Kenma was already shaking his head as Oikawa looked to him in confusion.

Kuroo pulled his pistol from the side of his belt, twirling it around his finger before bringing it to a stop and dotting the barrel with a kiss, "I haven't stolen weapons from work in _so_ long."

 

II

Kageyama was starting to grow increasingly irritated by how he gauged his time.

Morning rations. Sure, he worked the line, kept people civil. But at 0804, specifically, 0804, he could see the bob of orange hair and bright eyes.

Every day around 1300 there was the sound of a skip and a caw, a ruffle of hair that shouldn't be ruffled because how did he jump up to Kageyama's height anyway, and a bubbling laugh.

Then, when Kageyama's shifts were starting to drag as if they'd never end, he could count on the beaming smile that greeted him from the sidewalk, the only smile ever directed toward him while in his military police uniform.

The only smile directed at him ever, really.

Kageyama was measuring his time with the appearances of Hinata Shouyou.

People usually looked at Kageyama like he was a horse.

Ah, perhaps that wasn't the right analogy. People liked horses, after all.

Kageyama hadn't received the Civilian Service System letter to force his duty. He had been specifically recruited, like an armful of others, to remain in duty as his career. That had been fine with him.

He hadn't realized the depth of the stigma, or the corruption.

And even among such people, such brutality, civilians looked upon Kageyama like a big threatening animal with a gun. They looked at him like he was ready to snap their necks or break their backs, and he wasn't sure why.

"It's because of your face," Hinata had told him with a laugh, "it's because your face is so scary Kageyama-kun!"

"Idiot," Kageyama whispered to himself at the memory as the sidewalks began to grow dark.

Hinata had appeared in Kageyama's life in a semi-recent manner.

A little over a month ago Kageyama had offered to help work the early morning gates. There were a few survivors who had come through and after a full night in quarantine outside the gates they were ready to be let in, checked out, and pushed into the system.

It seemed like the right thing to do. Kageyama would always volunteer for new things, and he would always go out of his way to help bring in survivors. He had never been out in the wilds or the wastes, and he had the utmost respect for those who had.

When they opened the gates, things were mostly as Kageyama had expected. Sunken in faces, limbs too thin and eyes dark and tired. People shuffled past the cement walls as if they barely noticed them. But then there was the small one.

" _Ooh_."

Kageyama blinked over, dragging his gaze downward to take in the bright cooing face of the boy before him.

He was a ball of orange light. He cut through the gray and tore apart the grit in the air around him with nothing but a blink over shining eyes. The air vibrated around him as if it was inclined to lift him. He looked inclined to be lifted.

"The walls are so _high_."

The boy was staring up at the cement like it was capable of something beautiful. His face was smudged with black, oil and sweat clinging to his shirt and dirt winding up his legs. But his orange eyes were wide and open, his mouth spread into something that was almost a smile, but felt a little more like awe.

Kageyama could feel himself frowning. He wasn't sure what to do with the visual information in front of him. How old was this boy? Where did he come from? Did he arrive alone? Why did he look so _happy_?

"Oi."

The boy turned to Kageyama quickly, ducking down a little like a puppy does when it's suspicious but can't _quite_ repress the urge to play.

Kageyama tipped his head toward the people who had walked past him, "Are you with them? You need to register together."

The boy straightened then, head falling to the side as he looked up at Kageyama. He didn't look at Kageyama like an animal with a gun. He looked at him like...

"Oh, I'm not with them," he corrected Kageyama. Then his smile split open, "I came by myself."

Kageyama felt himself squinting.

"I'm Hinata!" the boy continued without much pause. "Hinata Shouyou." His eyes flickered across Kageyama's vest, possibly in search of a name tag. There wasn't one. "What's your name?"

Like...

"Kageyama Tobio," Kageyama answered without thinking, rumination still clearly working across his face.

Hinata's smile was blistering, pushing past his cheekbones and into his eyes, "Nice to meet you, Kageyama-kun."

Like a bunny trying to impersonate a police officer.

Kageyama found himself frowning at Hinata as if he had actually said such words.

"I go this way?" Hinata asked, already falling into step toward registration for rations and housing.

"Uh, yeah. That way."

"Thanks!" he bounced a little as he turned to give a small wave over his shoulder. "I'll see you around, Kageyama-kun."

Kageyama watched him leave. Even though this was his first time assisting with this particular job, Kageyama had the feeling that he had just witnessed something truly unique.

Kageyama would find that he was correct.

#

"Morning!"

Hinata _bounded_ up for rations the next morning. Where did he get all this energy?

Kageyama was so busy being surprised that someone was speaking to him that he wasn't able to form a sentence before Hinata was already moving on.

"Do you always work in the mornings?" Hinata asked, stopping in front of Kageyama and rocking up onto his toes.

"Mostly," Kageyama answered. After a beat of silence and a flutter of eyelashes Kageyama continued, "Did you get everything sorted out? For housing?"

"Ah well," Hinata said, eyes sliding off to the side, "it will be fine."

Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows at him, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing nothing," Hinata said with a wave of his hand. "But I'm _super_ hungry; I'll see you later!"

Kageyama peered at the back of the fluff of orange hair with a crease in his forehead.

#

"Just _tell_ me." Kageyama lunged out at Hinata, firmly gripping the top of his head.

"Kageyama- _kun_ ," Hinata whined, squirming in his grasp, "ow, eh, _help_."

"You've been avoiding the question since we _met_ ," Kageyama said evenly, arm stiffening as Hinata writhed in his hold. "What are you hiding."

Hinata finally batted him away, flailing and then ducking away from the next assault. "It's nothing," Hinata said with a pout of his lips as he fluffed his hair back up where Kageyama had crushed it.

"Lies," Kageyama responded flatly.

Hinata sighed as if Kageyama was truly exhausting, "The housing situation is weird."

Kageyama's eyebrow twitched upward, "Weird?"

Hinata's head was lolling around his neck like it wasn't attached correctly, "Yeah well." He huffed, finally allowing his head to settle off to one side, "I'm an orphan? So they tried finding room for me in shared space but there really isn't any right now..." Orange irises skidded along the dilapidated sidewalk.

" _What!?_ " Kageyama's voice went loud and barking as he peered down at Hinata.

Hinata flinched, "What, what?"

Kageyama grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer as he stared down into his eyes. "Where have you been staying?" he demanded.

Hinata held up his hands, eyes flitting around like maybe the bunny _was_ a bit scary, "It's no big deal, Kageyama-kun, really--"

Kageyama's eyes went wide, "This is unacceptable." He realized he was yelling.

Hinata's face broke into an apologetic sort of smile as he ruffled the back of his hair and leaned away from Kageyama's hold on his shirt, "It's really not that bad..."

"Kageyama-kun, I didn't think you were the type to bully civilians."

Kageyama's hand immediately loosened, dropping Hinata. His back snapped into a straight line, "Sugawara-sensei."

Despite his words Suga was smiling, a muted happy thing that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "So, what is it?" Suga asked, approaching the both of them before folding his arms over his chest. "What has you all riled up?"

"The living arrangements for this one, sir," Kageyama said with a point at Hinata. Hinata just blinked at him.

"Kageyama don't point," Suga chided lightly. Kageyama dropped his finger as Suga turned his attention to Hinata. "What are your living arrangements?"

Hinata's gaze slid off to the side.

"He doesn't have any," Kageyama attempted to answer flatly. A bit of anger might have still worked its way into his voice.

"I!" Hinata turned to him, small hands curling into fists, "I do!" They both looked at him in waiting, and slowly his fingers straightened and his shoulders sunk. "I've been sleeping in the stairwells of some of the apartment complexes. Since the guards don't usually patrol inside..."

Kageyama felt his face growing hot. He was about to yell, about to raise a special sort of hell both to Hinata and to the registration office, when he caught a glimpse of Suga's expression. Suga's eyes were pinned wide open, mouth pursed into a straight line and normally fair cheeks flushed with heat. It was a forcefully boiled down rage, and it was a bit eerie on Sugawara-sensei's face.

"Unacceptable," Suga said tersely. He grabbed Hinata's hand, "What are you doing?"

"What?" Hinata asked, voice full of confusion, "Me? Nothing, I was just around--"

"Come with me."

Hinata was blinking. "Sugawara-sensei, where are we--"

Suga shot him a look that was full of haste and import. "If you're okay with it," he answered lowly, "I'm going to register you into my household."

Kageyama and Hinata's eyes both grew wide.

"I couldn't, I couldn't impo--"

"Nonsense," Suga cut him off, dragging him toward the registration offices. "Don't be ridiculous."

As he was being dragged off Hinata threw a glance back at Kageyama, who was watching them with equal parts shock and admiration. Hinata blinked at him, confused, and then he coughed a laugh, giddy disbelief in his eyes. Kageyama watched Hinata smile big and broad. Kageyama felt himself smile back.

#

Now it was past the time, past the time when Hinata usually exploded around him in light and color to help drag the rest of his shift forward. Curfew was going to go into effect soon and Kageyama hadn't seen him since 1300 when he had received a half wave and quick smile.

Kageyama found himself muttering, worrying, but he wasn't sure for who. Was he more worried for Hinata because of his random absence, or more worried for himself because why in the _hell_ was he so down and grumpy after a single missed meeting with the Quarantine's scamp?

"Psst, Kageyama-kun."

No Kageyama's heart did not just jump. Kageyama did a quick turn, eyes hitting at the burst of orange poking around the corner of a building. "Idiot," Kageyama hissed, taking a few quick paces over to him, "What are you doing? Curfew is about to go into effect."

Hinata gave a small bubbling laugh, a bit of apology tumbling from his throat, "Sorry, but I wanted to talk to you."

Kageyama's back straightened, and he coughed at the warm tickle moving over his cheeks, "About what? About how I'm going to have to arrest you in a few minutes?"

Hinata's feet stumbled over themselves in a way that would have looked tripping if it hadn't been so graceful, carrying him easily to the side as he bent at the hips and peered up through his eyelashes at Kageyama, "We're thinking about leaving soon."

Kageyama stared down at him. It took a lot longer than it should have; the words simply could not permeate Kageyama's head and reach a meaning. Leave? Where? To go? "Wait," Kageyama said, eyebrows pulling together and creasing his forehead in hard lines, "what do you mean?"

Hinata stood up before dipping his body back to the side, "The Quarantine Zone."

There was a heartbeat of delayed reaction before heat flashed across Kageyama's face. " _What?_ " he whisper hissed at him, taking a heavy step forward and getting in Hinata's face. "Hinata you can't just _say_ that to me; I'm supposed to bring you in for something like that!"

Hinata scratched his head, eyes wide and innocent, "But you won't, right?"

Kageyama's eyes were wide, his hands clenching into fists beside him. Eventually he groaned, scrambling his hands through his hair in frustration. "Hinata," he finally said, looking down at him as Hinata stared at Kageyama's display with equal parts surprise and amusement. "Where would you go? And _why?_ " Didn't he just _get_ here?

"Well you know why, Kageyama-kun," Hinata answered with an easy blink. His eyes were trained on Kageyama's face.

Kageyama's shoulders unwound a bit at those words, air leaving his chest with a bit of defeat. Because the Quarantine Zones were hell. They were tyrannical, oppressive, and _draining_. "Well, but..." Kageyama's voice dropped lower as his mouth pulled down. "There's nowhere to go. There are always rumors about happy settlements here and there, but they're never true." Kageyama brought his gaze back to Hinata's eyes, and his voice might have sounded a little pleading, "It's all garbage, Hinata. There's nowhere safer. There is no haven for people. That's all a pipe dream."

"We know that," Hinata said, glancing down at his hands with a soft smile. "I know that."

Kageyama felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

"But," Hinata went on, eyelashes fluttering as he brought his gaze back to Kageyama's face, "that's not what the plan is. The plan is to _create_ a colony."

Kageyama felt his entire body go still. Create? A colony?

Hinata shrugged, "Suga-san knows a scientist... what's the word? The one who works with plants? And it was apparently his idea. To start a new settlement, I mean."

Surely Hinata wasn't referencing the Zone's botanist. Kageyama felt a chill run down his spine when he thought about those calculating eyes and the dark slip of his mouth. He was scary.

"Suga-san is still unsure about going," Hinata went on, rocking up on his toes and then back down to his heels as he clasped his hands behind his back, "but I think we should. I think we should leave."

"But you..." Kageyama blinked down at him. His voice was a bit hoarse, "You... came from out there? Right?"

Hinata paused in his motions. "Yeah," he answered in a voice lower than Kageyama had ever heard from him, "I did."

The veiled meaning was like electricity in Kageyama's chest. How could it be that bad? How could life within the walls be bad enough to risk everything to...

Kageyama glanced down at his vest, at the nightstick on his hip and the riot shield he had set down beside him.

Kageyama only knew one side of things.

_I don't want you to go._

"You could die," Kageyama said.

Hinata shrugged, "We could start something really important, too."

What was this? What was this sort of panic Kageyama was feeling? "But--"

"I didn't tell you to tempt you to arrest me, Bakayama," Hinata interrupted with a wolfish grin and a light jab to the side of his body armor. Kageyama found himself silent again, looking down on Hinata. Hinata tilted his head all the way back to look up at Kageyama, his big eyes flashing with something that looked like excitement, " _I want you to come with us_."

Kageyama could hear the rattle of the army's fence behind him, gate closing with a shivering clank. Hinata was staring at him still, sun setting far below the wall and dragging the blithe orange of Hinata down into something deeper, darker, more crimson.

Kageyama opened his mouth. He couldn't. _He couldn't_.

Hinata's eyelashes sifted through the night air.

Right?

Kageyama couldn't do anything but shake his head, mouth slightly parted.

Hinata's lips pinched in, and Kageyama could tell he was attempting to cover the flinch of disappointment that had flashed across his face. "Well," Hinata responded, voice lilting past a small catch in his throat, "think about it." He turned on his heel, "Suga-san is going to kill me if I don't get back." He gave a small wave, the over the shoulder wave Kageyama usually received, but the smile was a bit off, and Kageyama couldn't do anything but watch him go.

He stared at the spot where Hinata had been standing, orange burned into the back of his eyelids as if he had been staring at the sun.

 

III

Tsukishima had laid everything out on the table. He counted-- bullets. Arrows. Tripwire. Vodka. Lighters. Matches.

His head tipped back, eyes closing.

Nails. Knives. One shotgun. Claymores, how many claymores.

His fingers started tapping light against the table. He and Yamaguchi had just done the nightly survey. His mind combed through what had become their familiar surroundings. Everything was as it had been. The faded paint of once red cars overgrown with winding vines and weeds; cracked windows and concrete that eroded with every rain, every step. In the aftermath, when everything had died, it had all become very alive.

Nature didn't care about the infection. Nature took back its land and its cities; punished the machines and buildings and monuments for bothering to try and repress it in the first place.

Tsukishima's fingers were still tapping, a rhythm he would recognize if he stopped to give thought to his own motions.

Everything sunk into its place, permanence in the midst of the destruction. Shadows lurked in the same corners, allowed the sun to burn bright in all the same places. The winding coil of nature held everything close to the ground, held it in place like a vice. It was almost a comfort, until you realized it would do the same thing to you if you were to stand still long enough.

There was a whisper of noise. Nothing grating. Nothing particularly rousing. But Tsukishima found his eyes sliding open anyway.

He gazed across the table at Yamaguchi. He was busy cleaning weaponry and jotting down notes on paper off to the side. It was him breathing, the noise. It was a hum so light that Tsukishima could really only make out the breath of it and not the actual body of the sound. But it matched something, felt familiar in some way, and Tsukishima found himself staring in tangential thought when Yamaguchi finally raised his eyes to Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi had a naturally kind face. Instead of sitting flat or in a frown, like most and like Tsukishima himself, it always looked a little warm. A little happy.

It was strange.

Yamaguchi smiled, "Counts done Tsukki?"

The rhythm of the breath was gone now, of course. Tsukishima sat up in his chair, "Yeah. They're done." He stared down at the table. The house they were squatting in had needed help before the infection, Tsukishima thought. Gaudy laminate floors in the kitchen. Dark red wallpaper with... some sort of warped pattern sliding down it in vertical lines. Had people actually used wallpaper, still?

The dining table they were at was the cheap western kind-- white plastic or laminate top with crappy metal wound around the edges. It was rusting now, decaying, and the flimsy table legs wobbled unevenly when Yamaguchi picked up anything with weight to it.

But they had gotten used to it. It was fine. It was the best Tsukishima had come across in a long time.

Tsukishima was just leaning forward, thinking about barricading all the doors for the night when he heard it, the almost too-quick twang of wire before the rumble and crack of an explosion.

Then there was the bellow-- the rip-torn scream of a clicker that scraped high and vicious across vocal cords that didn't work like they should. It was followed by another.

And another.

And as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima both sat frozen in place, hands hovering over weapons, they could make out at least one more cracking groan in the night.

"Northwest," Tsukishima and Yamaguchi whispered at the same time.

They glanced at each other, nodded, and then were on the move.

Yamaguchi scooped up his backpack as Tsukishima grabbed his crossbow, and soon they were swinging their feet quick and silent out the side window of the house.

They dipped low, feet moving sure and steady against the grass. Tsukishima held out his right arm as he approached the corner of the house, flicking his wrist forward when he saw a clear cut of darkness.

Visuals were clear, but the night air was still drenched, _saturated_ , in the crude echolocation of the infected. The pained squealing of the clicker almost sounded like a pig, like a hog, but it wasn't-- these things had been _human_ once. The twisting cries and low gurgles were all edged with hostility, and behind the leading wails of one came the chorus of clicks from the others.

The sounds were strained rasps from the very bottom and very back of the throat, wheezing inhales drug down through the neck and punctuated with the alternating press and lift of a tongue against the esophagus.

Tsukishima was sneering without thinking, the choked noises and barks scraping his throat raw even though he wasn't making the noises.

And reminding him that his body was capable of that too.

Tsukishima held up his fist, squatting behind a car. Yamaguchi stilled beside him, allowing his shoulder to lean lightly against the rusted metal.

Tsukishima gazed over the edge of the window, staring past the cracks and through the sets of glass. He could just barely make out movement in front of them. They were too far away for Tsukishima to take a shot, especially given their numbers.

Tsukishima glanced at Yamaguchi, giving him a small nudge and motioning over the window.

Yamaguchi rose slightly in his crouch, gazing through the grime infused glass. When he saw the movement he blinked. He lightly touched at his backpack, hand resting on its contents as his eyes drew lines from vehicle to vehicle. Tsukishima could see his mind working, could see the angles and options slipping behind his irises.

Yamaguchi finally looked to Tsukishima and nodded his head toward the east end of the street. Cars cluttered the road and that was helpful, but sight was a lot less of an issue. They had to be _quiet_.

Yamaguchi took lead, sliding to the edge of the trunk before peering around it. He motioned to the car a couple meters away. Tsukishima nodded.

Footwork was practiced. They took slow side steps toward the vehicle, feet crushing the weeds that had bloomed up through the cracks in the asphalt.

Just as Yamaguchi's leading hand touched their cover a clicker squealed, a loud _croak_ followed by the _kekeke_ of their clicks, always far too dry or far too wet. The sound spiraled up into the night and down into their stomachs, freezing their steps in place.

Yamaguchi's hands were shaking, but his body was still. Tsukishima dipped his head. He could see them approaching, all four now visible in his field of vision.

They were staggering, unsteady steps moving them forward in rocking motions as their throats cracked around notes to gauge their surroundings.

They were all clickers. All four of them. Tsukishima felt his teeth dig into his lip. He was hoping for at least one runner or stalker, anything with a more visible weak spot for his aim.

None of that mattered now.

Yamaguchi took a tentative step forward, squeezing his eyes shut against the waves of clicks growing closer. He slid along the car until there was space for Tsukishima beside him, and Tsukishima filled it quickly. Being out in the open with four clickers on the hunt was asking for a massacre.

Tsukishima regarded the clickers with a steady gaze. They were all very deep into their stage of infection. Fungus grew up over their eyes in thick sheets, layers, completely blinding them. Their faces bloomed open, peeling back to reveal ridges of red and pink among the white of the infection. The one in front, the one Tsukishima could see best, had a mouth with its top mandible and lip split open, teeth viced apart by the poisonous tiers of fungus overtaking its face.

The chalky white was layered all down its neck, growths covering the entirety of its shoulder. The rest of the arm was covered in dry white blotches; the sort of moss that scratches off of tree bark but you can never quite rid of.

The fungus wasn't just gruesome, and it wasn't just infectious. It was also armor, hardening and protecting the pieces of the host it covered. Tsukishima could shoot directly at these monster's foreheads and he would probably just break his arrow. Perhaps the neck of one or two without full coverage. Perhaps...

Yamaguchi motioned to him. He was quietly slipping his hand into his backpack, which always stayed two thirds zipped and then safety pinned so he could reach the contents quietly. He made a quick signal. 'Back'.

Tsukishima brought his eyes to the group again, still gurgling and squealing. The one farthest back... had an open neck and chest. It was Tsukishima's best shot.

Yamaguchi withdrew a bottle, clear liquid slipping around the inside with a rag stuffed in the top. He pulled out his lighter. He turned his gaze to Tsukishima as his thumb pressed in against the metal without igniting the flame. His eyes were big, scared, but ready. Yamaguchi had a way about him, a way that made him look terrified and capable of destroying the world at the same time. He held up three fingers. Tsukishima nodded.

Tsukishima slid an arrow into his crossbow. Yamaguchi was squeezing his eyes closed against the shake in his shoulders.

Tsukishima rounded him, bringing his sights up over the trunk of the car. He found his target and dug his body into the ground, steadying himself. _Ke. Kekeke._

Yamaguchi held up a finger.

One.

They both exhaled, Yamaguchi casting his eyes over at the group of clickers. He held up two fingers.

Two.

Tsukishima felt his finger slowly squeezing the trigger toward him. Yamaguchi's thumb clicked against the lighter, flame flaring up to catch at the cloth.

A clicker jerked its body to face them squarely and _yowled_. Yamaguchi's eyes blew wide.

Three.

Yamaguchi flung his arm up and over his head, bottle of alcohol soaring through the air in a perfect arc toward the group of clickers. Tsukishima clenched his hand around the trigger and felt the snapping release of his arrow.

The arrow hit the back one firmly in the throat, a strangled cry spiking into the night air as the bottle crashed to the pavement and threw flames in a brilliant bloom around them.

Their bodies flailed, and they screamed, _screamed_ , in a way that sounded as human as it didn't, thin and raspy voices spinning into wails of pain as their bodies ignited and they flailed their limbs in all directions.

But the fourth one, the one Tsukishima had hit, wasn't touched by the flames, and it wasn't going down.

It bellowed and ran straight toward them, ran at them like it could see, and Tsukishima pumped another arrow into it just to watch it fall and see an alight clicker flailing behind it, sent into a blind rage in their direction.  

"Fuck," Tsukishima breathed, hands desperately grasping at another arrow, " _Fuck_."

And it was leaping, feet crashing hard against the trunk of the car as Yamaguchi flailed backward in panic. It roared as it lunged at him, and Tsukishima reared back, back hitting against Yamaguchi as he fell backward on top of him and lifted his crossbow to squeeze an arrow into the flesh of its throat.

Its body lurched, and it was gurgling, blood too thick and too dark sliding in clumps from its mouth, and then collapsed with a whine at their feet.

Yamaguchi was skittering backward, chest heaving. His eyes were bigger than before, anchored on the corpse.

Tsukishima realized he wasn't breathing, and for a moment he wasn't sure how. Then the mechanism kicked in, the inflation and deflation of lungs, and blood spun behind his eyes. They sat there for a moment, the black pavement turning abyssal in the dark, the only noises coming from their throats and the greedy tendrils of flame licking up for air.

Tsukishima swallowed.

"Ni--"

Tsukishima turned his head to regard Yamaguchi in the corner of his vision.

"Nice shot, Tsukki," he finished weakly.

Tsukishima's shoulders fell, his eyes closing. When he opened them again he was pulling his face back into normal composition, "We need to burn the bodies."

Yamaguchi was already pulling on his gas mask and thumbing his lighter.

Tsukishima cast a glance over at the pile of clickers of few meters away. If he hadn't been purposefully controlling his face, his lips might have twitched.

"Well," Tsukishima corrected, glancing down at the corpse at their feet, "we need to burn _this_ body."

 

IV

The officer straightened, back taut and voice clipped short with some sort of ill placed duty, "Captain!"

"I haven't been your captain for a long time," Iwaizumi said semi miserably. He waved him off, "Stop, you look like a jackass."

"Yessir."

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

He drug his legs up the steps, muscles tired and aching. The strap of the backpack stung against his shoulder. He flipped through keys, knuckles and fingertips raw, and then slid one into the lock.

"I'm back," he droned.

"Iwa-chan!"

Iwaizumi closed the door behind him, blinking around the room. Oikawa and Kuroo were sprawled across the floor, fingers and pens working at some sort of list, and Kenma was spread out over the table, hands moving slow and steady in long lines.

A map.

"Oh my God," Iwaizumi breathed.

Oikawa's smirk caught at his lips devilishly, "Surprise."

Iwaizumi walked over to the table, "I can't believe you did it."

"I'm hurt," Kuroo said from the floor.

Iwaizumi tilted his head, watching Kenma's pen move, "So the base you guys were interested in..."

"It's here," Kenma answered in a low voice. Finally he brought his eyes up to Iwaizumi, "Welcome back."

Iwaizumi smiled softly.

"So?" Oikawa queried, moving to sit up straight, "How did your night go?"

Iwaizumi threw the bag at Oikawa, and it hit him with a thump and a small grunt. Oikawa unzipped it and peered in side, eyes growing wide, "Wow, you ended up taking a lot more rations than I thought they would allow."

"Well," Iwaizumi said, and when his lips tilted into a smirk he could feel the bottom crack and reveal a sliver of crimson, "I wouldn't exactly say ' _allow_ '..."

Oikawa tilted his chin down, looking up darkly through his lashes. "Iwa-chan, you _brute_ ," and when he said it the words were weighted with a sort of fondness that made Iwaizumi's face burn and his chest tighten.

"Anyway," Iwaizumi said with a clearing of his throat and a clean break of eye contact, "get me caught up."

#

Iwaizumi was still up after Kuroo and Oikawa had passed out, Kuroo with his limbs haphazardly sprayed across the floor and Oikawa with his arm draped over his cot like he was inclined to slide out of it.

He watched Kenma draw. Iwaizumi thought they could all profess a profound love for watching the process. Kenma's fingers seemed to bleed into the pen, and the ink seemed to bleed into the paper, and it was a very organic and beautiful thing. Kenma's eyes trailed the lines like they were speaking to him.

"You have work in the morning, don't you?" Iwaizumi asked, fingers twitching. He wanted a cigarette. He withheld.

"Mm," Kenma said with a small nod. "It doesn't matter."

Iwaizumi didn't argue with him. They were all stubborn and hard-headed, but Kenma was secretly the worst of them all. He was resolute and firm in everything he decided, he just wasn't boisterous about it.

"You're still against it." Kenma didn't ask. He knew.

"Of course I'm against it," Iwaizumi said lowly. "There's nothing more dangerous."

"Mm," Kenma hummed again, hand moving in to slide ink into the shape of a mountain, "I think humanity declining and dying in false contentment is the most dangerous."

Iwaizumi sighed, eyes falling to the table.

"Have you told him?"

There was an extra layer of quiet to the room, and when Iwaizumi looked up he realized that Kenma's hand had stilled, his eyes on Iwaizumi's face.

Iwaizumi broke eye contact again.

There was a pause, and Kenma's hand moved back into motion. "You're being foolish, Hajime."

"It wouldn't change anything," Iwaizumi said, eyes staring past the wall of the apartment and into nothingness, "it would be worse. He'd still go."

"That's not why it's foolish."

Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair, head tipping so that if he ever bothered to open his eyes he'd be looking at the ceiling. "Now's not the time," he said. Memories slid through Iwaizumi's mind, "There's no time for love in war."

"Isn't that the best time?"

Iwaizumi's eyes opened as he tilted his head to level his gaze with Kenma.

"War," Kenma repeated. "Survival. In such bad times, shouldn't you grasp at whatever can actually make you happy?" He still wasn't looking at Iwaizumi. His eyes followed the quick motions of crosshatching ink.

Iwaizumi's eyes slid to the dark of Oikawa's room. One of the brightest minds during this blight weighed down by his best friend's love? "No," Iwaizumi answered.

Kenma lightly shook his head, but didn't say anything. Kenma had made his feelings clear on the situation before. Kenma had watched Iwaizumi's face. They hadn't even known each other that well before Kenma had looked up at him and said, "Why doesn't he know?"

Iwaizumi grumbled, digging in the pocket of his jeans, and withdrew a light and cigarette. He inhaled the sting and poured it up into the air through his nose. Kenma shook his head again.

There was a very long silence. Iwaizumi did nothing but watch the swirl and shift of the smoke in the air. Finally he spoke, "You realize we could all die, Kenma."

Kenma lifted his eyes once more. "We could survive," Kenma said, gold eyes boring strong into his own. "We could survive with you with us, Hajime."

Iwaizumi never took so much smoke into his lungs at once.

#

Kenma had finally fallen asleep. Head bobbing on his shoulders, lurching forward, Iwaizumi had folded a blanket and placed it in front of him on the table. Kenma had sunk into it, eyes fluttering closed, pen still pinched between his fingers.

Iwaizumi was walking into the bedroom, toward one of the two tiny cots acting as Oikawa and his haven for sleep, when Oikawa opened his eyes.

"Iwa-chan," he whispered. He slowly reached forward, fingers sliding along Iwaizumi's palm. He smiled, eyes melting in the night, "hey."

Iwaizumi almost smirked, "Hey."

"Did Kenma finally get to sleep?" he asked, voice low and soft from sleep.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi answered, "he did."

Oikawa's hand squeezed around Iwaizumi's, "Good." Iwaizumi felt his heart jump and he was pulling away when Oikawa spoke again, "Iwa-chan," he repeated, "stay here?"

Iwaizumi gave a heavy sigh, thankful for the dark of the room, "I want to go to bed, Bakakawa."

Oikawa tugged on his hand.

Iwaizumi sighed again, possibly even heavier, and dipped down to his knees to look at Oikawa. "What?" he asked bitterly.

Oikawa smiled, "Do you remember when we were little, and we used to sneak over to each other's apartments right before curfew so it would force us to have to stay the night?" His eyes were shining, teeth flashing bright in the light of the moon through the bare window.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi answered, remembering chiding mothers and futons and cold floors. "I do."

Oikawa sighed, shoulders sinking in against the cot. His fingers twitched against the palm of Iwaizumi's hand, "We were always this way." Iwaizumi felt his skin growing tight, heart clenching into apprehension. Oikawa tilted his head at him, whispering, "We were always meant to sneak away."

Iwaizumi's eyes fell to their hands, the soft touches making his skin spark and burn, "Oikawa..."

"Please come with me."

Iwaizumi's eyes flickered up to Oikawa's face, and it was serious.

"You're going to come with us, right?" Oikawa was staring at him. He was observing every shift or lack of shift in Iwaizumi's features.

The moonlight blanched all of the age out of Oikawa's face. Looking down at him now he looked sixteen again, eyes a little brighter and lips a little more certain, eyelashes blinking over an expression that was a strange mix of menacing and charming. It was the face Iwaizumi had fallen in love with, although the exact time was unclear. It had been as slow as it had been certain, and after all these years Iwaizumi had grown used to it. He had grown used to the heaviness in his chest, weight only increasing with time. He had grown used to the flush and flutter under his best friend's gaze. He had grown used to the squelching of his heart and irritated side glances to break away from the ache, because he truly believed that love was a thing reserved for those who deserved and could afford it, and he was neither.

The world needed Oikawa Tooru.

Iwaizumi prayed to any gods still listening to keep the shake out of his hand and voice. "Of course," he answered. "Idiot."

Oikawa's face broke into a smile.

Like Iwaizumi would let him walk into hell alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. This Ain't a Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gotta love ill placed confidence."  
> Kuroo shrugged, "It's all I got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a lot of kind feedback and cheerleading on this work already. It makes me... mm... hmph.  
> You guys are the actual best. 
> 
> The chapter title is exactly what you think it is.

I

Akaashi had met Bokuto in a way that seemed like fate, if Akaashi was inclined to believe in such a thing.

It was the randomness of it, the alignment of conditions that never should have aligned, that made it all seem a little too strange. Because Akaashi never opened his window, especially at night, and Bokuto never came to that that part of the Zone, especially that building. And, Bokuto would say, he was never, _never_ , out when it was raining. He would tell Akaashi later that the rain crushed his hair and made him feel like a bird with saturated wings, and Akaashi would stare at him and desperately attempt to get the image of flopping wet feathers falling over Bokuto's forehead out of his mind.

He never would.

But conditions aligned, and all the "never"s and "especially"s were eviscerated in one evening, at the same time.

Akaashi had just gotten back from a long day of registering a few new faces into their Zone. They had seemed pleased, mildly, and Akaashi hoped they could cling onto that for at least another week until they realized how low their ration count was.

He shook the water out of his hair, throwing his keys on the counter as he entered the too big apartment. Rain tapped against the window, just a few splatters here and there. It had brought with it a breeze that was uncommon, and Akaashi thought that maybe just this once the apartment could benefit from some fresh air. The linoleum next to the window was ruined, anyway.

Akaashi slid his fingers under the handles, old wood creaking and groaning beneath the force of his touch, and shoved the window open. The wind immediately slid through the room, carding through his hair. Yes. This was nice.

Akaashi sat down at the table, grabbing his reading glasses from his bag and pushing them up onto his nose as he sat down to write. He didn't know what he wanted to write about, exactly, just that his mind was rolling through lines of prose that might make sense some way, somehow, if he started stringing them together.

He wrote by the light of a candle rather than electricity since he figured they would be powering down his grid for the night soon anyway. This was probably why his eyesight had started to suffer.

Akaashi was so engrossed in his words that he didn't hear the tiny grunts.

Then there was a scrape, rubber on concrete, or brick, slipping against the rain. Akaashi's hand paused at that. He heard huffing, a slightly labored exhale of breath. His eyes were just sliding over to his window, hand just motioning to set down his pen, when an arm slung over his windowsill and pulled a large wet man along with it.

Akaashi furrowed his brow as the man fell into the apartment, breath coughing from his throat as he hit the floor.

He continued to cough, back and feet flat against the floor as he faced the ceiling, eyes still squeezed closed as he wheezed for breath. The minimal streetlights and moonlight from outside poured in through the window and over his dripping and crumpled form.

Akaashi tilted his head. "Um," he started, "excuse you?"

The man jumped, eyes blowing wide as he popped up into a sitting position. He blinked hurriedly over his eyes. "Dude," he said, thrusting his thumb in the direction of the window, "you shouldn't leave your window open at night."

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, "Apparently."

The man shook his hair, not unlike a puppy, and leaned forward.  His wet boots squeaked against the floor as he shifted and draped his arms over his knees. "I figured this place was abandoned," he informed Akaashi amiably.

Akaashi's eyes trailed over his boots and utility belt, his roughed up knuckles and scarred arms and very distinct _lack_ of official military gear.

Underground trader.

Akaashi pursed his lips, chest tightening a bit, "Are you going to... steal from me?"

The man tilted his head at that, entire body bobbing a bit with the motion, "What? No, no man, I just wanted to get out of the rain."

Akaashi was staring at him as he smiled. He couldn't tell if he was taking Akaashi for an idiot or if _he_ was an idiot. The man was still beaming as he drug his fingers up through his soaked hair. What... was it the lighting, or was his hair _white?_ With... _black?_ Akaashi felt his forehead crease. Was it dyed? How would someone even go about--

"Sorry."

Akaashi blinked himself out of his train of thought. "Excuse me?" he responded.

"I'm sorry for crawling through your window," the man reiterated. "I didn't mean to go and be weird."

Akaashi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "This is the third floor. Why didn't you crawl in someone _else's_ window?"

The man lifted his hands in the air like it was obvious, "Because yours was open?"

Akaashi lightly chewed at the inside of his cheek, "Are you sure you're not here to rob me?"

The man looked down at himself, then back up at Akaashi. His voice was offended, "Do I really look that dangerous?"

Akaashi's face crinkled into something incredulous, " _Yes_."

The man's shoulders slumped, lips poking out a bit, "Damn."

Akaashi leaned his face against his hand. What was happening?

Finally Akaashi sighed, pulling off his glasses so he could set them on the table and rub at his eyes.

"Are those glasses doin' well for ya?"

Akaashi opened his eyes, watching as the man rose from his slumped position on the floor to a standing one. He was tall. "What?" Akaashi asked.

"Those glasses," he repeated, taking a couple heavy steps toward Akaashi and vaguely pointing at them. He blinked down at Akaashi with big eyes. Maybe even kind ones. "I know it's hard to find prescriptions that match these days," he explained. "I could try and grab you a better pair," he smiled then, ruffling the back of his hair, "to apologize for crashing through your window and all."

Akaashi's lips parted around silence.

"Oh, I'm Bokuto by the way," he finally said, reaching out with his hand. "Bokuto Koutarou."

Akaashi blinked at the hand in front of him before eventually taking it, long fingers sliding in against a rough palm. "Akaashi," he said. "Keiji."

Bokuto bowed a bit, bringing their faces right across from one another while their hands were still clasped together. Before straightening his back he opened one eye and grinned, "Your name matches your face Akaashi."

What?

"So," Bokuto said, eyes falling to the glasses once more, "do you need better ones?"

Akaashi was still trying to figure out what it meant for his name to match his face. "No," Akaashi said with a light shake of his head, "they're just reading glasses."

"Okay," Bokuto said with a shrug. "But if you need anything let me know. I can try and get it for you."

Akaashi found himself without words. It was an odd occurrence.

"I'm gonna head out," Bokuto told him, motioning toward the window.

Akaashi regarded him flatly, "You could... use the door."

Bokuto blinked at it, then laughed, "No no, your building usually as an officer patrolling for curfew."

Akaashi motioned to the window with one hand, "There are officers down there."

"Yeah but," Bokuto glanced through the open window, "they're easier to avoid, and my friend works that shift sometimes. He doesn't let me stay locked up longer than a night." Bokuto smiled, the motion breaking past his cheeks and crinkling his eyes.

Akaashi blinked, "Oh... kay."

Bokuto nodded once with a small wave before swinging back through the widow, boots sliding against brick and hand holds that Akaashi probably would never be able to use, and then he dropped down to the glistening black of the street.

Akaashi sat in place for a long time. He glanced down at his notebook. He hadn't just imagined that, right?

It was very clear very soon that Akaashi wasn't imaging things.

It was only a couple days later and a few hours earlier when there was a three-beat tap against his window.

Akaashi's shoulders jumped, and when he turned around it was to level an irritated stare at the man smiling excitedly through his window.

Akaashi threw the window open, lips pulled down at the corners, "Bokuto-san, what are you doing here?" _I wasn't sure you existed._

"I wanted to say hey," he answered easily, swinging one leg into the apartment as his fingers gripped at the brick at the top of his window.

Akaashi took a step back as he allowed Bokuto inside even though he had no idea _why_ he was allowing him inside. "Why do you keep scaling the side of the building?" Akaashi asked.

Bokuto turned to face him. His hair was standing almost straight up now, pointing out from his scalp in two distinct tufts. It made sense. Bokuto seemed a bit like an exclamation point to Akaashi. "Practice," he answered, breathy happiness in his voice.

Akaashi felt the downward curve of his lips. "Practice," he repeated dryly.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Bokuto answered, eyes sliding around the interior of the apartment. "For when I visit you at night."

It was happening again. Akaashi was finding himself without words.

Bokuto brought his gaze back to Akaashi's face, "Did you think of what you wanted?"

"You to use the door."

" _Akaashi_ ," Bokuto whined, back slumping forward as his head sagged on his shoulders.

"I don't need anything," Akaashi said simply as Bokuto plodded over to a small shelf where Akaashi had a group of picture frames arranged. He picked one up.

Bokuto smiled before throwing a glance over his shoulder, "Is this your family?"

Akaashi's eyelashes fluttered, his vision falling to graze over the floor. "Yeah," he answered quietly.

"I noticed your apartment was pretty big," Bokuto said, focused once more on the image within the frame, "do they live here too?"

Akaashi felt a fog moving over his thoughts. "They did," he responded, his voice faraway.

He could sense Bokuto go still, thumb halting in its motion as it slid over the old wooden frame. He turned the upper half of his body slightly to look directly at Akaashi. "I'm sorry Akaashi," he said, his voice almost painfully soft.

Akaashi raised his eyes, mouth hardening back into its normal line, "It's fine." Akaashi cleared his throat, "Is there something else I can do for you Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto put the picture back down, "Nope, not at all."

Akaashi sighed, "Well then--"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Bokuto finished.

Akaashi's eyes slid open. What?

Bokuto took a few long strides back over to the window, slinging his leg over the ledge.

"The _door_ , Bokuto-san," Akaashi lamented. "The _door_."

Bokuto flashed him a smile, a bright and white smile that flushed his face, and then hoisted the rest of his body out through the window. 

Akaashi heard the scrape of his boots, the huff of breath, and the sound of feet smacking hard against pavement.

Akaashi shook his head. Bokuto was probably an idiot.

#

Akaashi went back and forth on Bokuto being an idiot, but he certainly was one to keep his word.

Bokuto had shown up the next night without delay. Then the one after that, and then there was a day off or two, and then he was back again. He started seeing Akaashi while he was working and delivering bright waves and smiles, and he invited Akaashi to his apartment-- "you can come in through the door and everything"-- to share rations that he felt he had too many of.

Soon the _tap tap taap_ on Akaashi's window at night was as common and expected as the greeting that mirrored it, the "Hey hey heey" Bokuto was sure to let tumble from his mouth before he shut the window behind him. Bokuto's presence began as an oddity that broke apart the monotony and silence of Akaashi's daily life, and eventually became a constant thing that Akaashi never bothered to combat. Sometimes it was like dealing with a child-- a moody child-- but mostly it was like dealing with a friend.

A moody friend.

Akaashi was walking down the hallway to Bokuto's apartment after a tiring day of sifting through Draft exemptions when he heard the low exchange of voices. Akaashi paused just before turning into the corridor. He recognized both of the voices, but wasn't used to them taking on such a tone, especially when speaking to one another.

"-- need to do. I have my shifts switched already, so."

Akaashi furrowed his brow. Kuroo?

"I can't believe you got it that quickly," Bokuto's voice said, slightly impressed.

"Why," Kuroo said, and Akaashi could almost imagine him touching his hand to his heart, "is everyone so surprised by my skills?"

"This is all kinda sudden isn't it?"

"Bo you know we've been planning this for awhile."

"Yeah yeah, I just--"

"Have you told Akaashi yet?"

Akaashi felt his back stiffen.

"... no."

"Dude."

"I _know_."

Akaashi heard Kuroo sigh, heard his heavy boots shift and clink against the littered hallway, "Well you have to talk to him. Soon. Yesterday."

"I will I will."

"Here," and now Akaashi could hear Kuroo unzipping something on his vest and the riffle of a sheaf of paper under fingers, "Kenma drew this for you."

"Oh, thanks."

"And this," there was another slip and shuffle, but it didn't sound the same; it was a simple flip, perhaps just a scrap of paper. "These are the coordinates."

"Ok--"

"Except," Kuroo interrupted. "The minutes on this latitude coordinate are actually flipped. If you go to this coordinate you'll be walking into a town festering with infected."

Bokuto almost snorted, "What, did you write it down wrong? Why not just rewr--"

"We didn't. It's..." Kuroo took a steady inhale and then sighed, "It's Oikawa being shrewd."

"... _oh_."

"Word of mouth and all that."

"Right." There was a pause. Then Bokuto spoke again, "He's a bit terrifying isn't he?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well thanks, I'll..."

"Mhm," Kuroo almost grunted, "talk to Akaashi. _Today_. Get back to me tonight."

"I will."

Then Kuroo was moving, and even though Akaashi could hear the heavy thud of his boots on the threadbare carpet he didn't have anywhere to go. So instead he stood there, and when Kuroo rounded the corner Akaashi blinked at him without expression.

Kuroo tilted his head down at him, gold eyes considering. He pursed his lips, looking amused if a bit bitter, "Well," he said, clapping his hands together, "there's that." Then he stepped around Akaashi and down the rest of the hallway. "Have fun with _that_ Bo," he chirped to himself before plodding down the stairs.

Interesting.

Akaashi finally rounded the corner and walked up to Bokuto's door, knocking politely. When Bokuto opened the door and saw Akaashi he very obviously cringed.

"So," Akaashi said, voice and face flat, "what is this you have to talk to me about?"

Bokuto hung his head on his shoulders, "Come inside."

Akaashi took a few small steps inside, following after Bokuto's long strides.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"Enough to be very confused."

Bokuto chuckled at that, "Okay." He sat on his dining table, pushing the seat next to it out with his foot. Akaashi pursed his lips and took the offer, sitting down politely with his back straight. He still didn't understand how the table held Bokuto's weight, being the shoddy thing that it was.

"I've been talking with Kuroo, Kenma, Oikawa and Iwaizumi for awhile now," Bokuto started, eyes not quite on Akaashi's face, "about leaving the Quarantine Zone."

Akaashi stared at him. This was a joke.

"And apparently," Bokuto said, head tipping to the side as his fingers nervously drummed at the table between his legs, "they've gotten everything they need to move forward with that plan."

It _had_ to be a joke.

They stared at each other. There was a long silence before Bokuto's eyes finally grew wide and he slumped forward, hands flailing, "Well could you at least _say_ something?"

Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows.

"Listen," Bokuto said, head falling back so his eyes were looking at the ceiling, "I should have told you earlier. This is going to sound totally crazy to you, because it sounds last minute, but--"

"You're serious?"

Bokuto stopped, mouth still open around words he was in the middle of speaking. His eyebrows twitched up, "Yeah?"

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, forehead creasing together, "Are you all idiots?"

Bokuto's face slid into something that looked like a frown.

"And go where?" Akaashi asked. "It's _dangerous_ out there. If your dream is to find a little mountain colony then--"

"Create one," Bokuto interrupted. "We were going to create our own stronghold."

Was that more or less crazy? Was it grandiose to the point of being unadulterated foolishness? "Bokuto-san," Akaashi breathed, "this is..."

"Dangerous," Bokuto agreed. His features were set into something serious, and it was an odd look on the usually optimistic face. "But you have to realize, especially with your job," he went on, blinking tirelessly into Akaashi's gaze, "that everything in the Zone is a mess. We don't have enough food. There isn't enough housing. Brutality and corruption are everywhere--"

"The _infected_ are everywhere," Akaashi said, leaning forward as his eyes shone in frustration. "There's a reason we're all corralled like farm animals."

"And?" Bokuto queried. "Humanity was supposed to work to find a cure, an antidote, to take our planet back, and we _haven't_. No one is trying anymore. We're rotting here."

Akaashi's lips were set into a straight line. Behind Bokuto's voice he could hear Oikawa's words.

"We have information..." Bokuto handed Akaashi a roll of paper.

Akaashi wrapped his fingers around it, unfurling the curled paper. Well, at least they did have that.

Akaashi's eyes were still scanning over the map when Bokuto started shifting, pensive and nervous as his eyes watched the anxious tap of his fingers, "I was going to ask you..." Akaashi raised his gaze to Bokuto, but Bokuto still didn't make eye contact, "to come with us."

Akaashi stilled. His fingers gripped into the paper as he swallowed the pressure in his throat.

Bokuto was staring back into Akaashi's gaze now, eyes wide and optimistic like he could convince Akaashi with the sheer strength of his heart. "We can do it," he told him, the intensity of his bright gold eyes enough to make heat crawl across Akaashi's shoulders, "and I could protect you."

Akaashi could feel himself biting into the inside of his lower lip. His eyes fell to his lap.

"And and," Bokuto said, leaning forward, eyelashes fluttering over a spark of hopefulness that was almost too overwhelming for Akaashi to look at, "You trust Kuroo. You trust Iwaizumi and Oikawa."

Akaashi's eyes fell to his lap. That was all true, but...

Akaashi felt his mind sliding back, his thoughts slithering through his apartment and the warm touches and smiles he used to feel, the laughter of family that was strained and tired but still _there_ , still sunken into the cracked walls and smashed between the windowpanes.

"Bokuto-san, I..."

Bokuto was looking at him. Expectantly. Eagerly.

Fearfully.

Akaashi slowly slid his hands together, map curling back into a scroll between his palms, "I can't."

Akaashi didn't look. He knew what he would see; he knew he would see the sink of disappoint in Bokuto's shoulders, the dimming of excitement in his eyes. But as his thumb ran over the edge of the paper, Bokuto heaved a sigh, "Okay."

Akaashi glanced up at him, and Bokuto's mouth tilted into a sad smile, "I won't go either."

What?

Bokuto leaned back against his hands on the table, the unstable legs creaking beneath the shift of weight. He kicked his feet as he spoke into the open air, "I'll go tell Kuroo after you leave."

Akaashi opened his mouth--

"Have you had lunch yet?" Bokuto asked, entire demeanor having moved on from the previous conversation.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi finally managed in a level voice, "why aren't you going?"

Bokuto blinked, owlishly, "Because you're not." He spoke as if it were obvious.

Akaashi felt a heat run over his cheeks, and it felt like... anger.

"You," Akaashi said, tilting his head forward, "were just ready to go. To take me _with_ you."

Bokuto's eyes skittered around, "Yeah?"

"Yeah?" Akaashi repeated. "Did you change your mind so easily? Were you not that well convinced?"

Bokuto waved him off, "Nah Akaashi, it's nothing like that. I still think it's worth a shot, but--" he tossed him a smile, "I'm going to stay."

Akaashi wanted to make the words. He wanted to ask 'Why?' But instead he stared, stunned in a way he didn't understand, and watched as Bokuto hopped off the table and clanked into the kitchen to grab an almost forgotten glass of water.

"You never answered about lunch," he chirped.

How often would Bokuto leave Akaashi without words?

 

II

Kuroo was smirking as he opened the doors to the records building, the rusted metal squealing beneath the twist of the hinge.

"I come bearing lunch!"

Kenma blinked up at him from the desk, a strand of hair slipping away from behind his ear and falling against his face.

Kuroo leaned forward heavily, elbows hitting the top of the desk with a thud as he held a small box out for Kenma.

"Thank you," Kenma said quietly, taking the box into his hands.

"I'm pretty sure it's almost entirely eggs," Kuroo said, resting his chin on his palm and flicking at Kenma's hair with his other hand.

"There are worse rations," Kenma commented.

"But," Kuroo said, reaching down into a pocket of his cargo pants with a wolfish grin, "I got this." He extended his hand and atop his palm sat a peach, the skin a fleshy gold and orange.

Kenma's eyes narrowed, sparking a little bright before his lips pulled down and he brought his gaze back to Kuroo, "We shouldn't be getting fruit."

Kuroo blinked at him with a blank smile.

"Kuroo," Kenma said, voice going low with warning, "how did you get it?"

Kuroo's shoulders crawled up a bit, "Two of our best friends work in the black market?" Kenma's chest was just rising with words of protest when Kuroo held up his hand, "Please," he said. He leveled his eyes with Kenma's and his eyebrow twitched upward, "It's not as if you don't give away half of your lunch everyday anyway."

Kenma's mouth closed and his eyes slid off to the side. His face reddened.

"Yeah," Kuroo said dryly, although his lips were still tilted up at one corner, "I'm not an idiot." He straightened to his full height then, withdrawing the knife at the back of his utility belt.

"Have you spoken to Koutarou?" Kenma asked as Kuroo slid the blade through the soft flesh of the fruit in his hand.

"Yeah," Kuroo answered, the metal cutting through the peach like it didn't even exist, "he's probably not going to come." Kuroo attempted to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he knew Kenma would feel it regardless.

Kenma was watching Kuroo's motions, "Why?"

"Because," Kuroo said, turning the fruit over and cutting it into smaller slices as juice slid out over his gloves, "he hasn't told Akaashi yet."

Kenma didn't appear surprised, "That's unfortunate..."

"I know," Kuroo said, fingers pinching around a slice of the peach and holding it in front of Kenma's mouth. "We've had time to battle with whether this is the right decision or not. Hell, Oikawa was worried Iwa wouldn't even come." Kenma rolled his eyes at that and then leaned forward to take the fruit from between Kuroo's fingers and into his mouth. "Yeah," Kuroo agreed with a chuckle. "But in any case, I can't imagine Akaashi being ready to embrace such a bold plan without any time to process it."

Kenma chewed, fingers touching at his lips before his tongue swiped away the excess juice, "I wouldn't."

"And," Kuroo went on, voice dropping a little lower, "I can't imagine Bo leaving without Akaashi at this point."

"Me neither," Kenma agreed as he took another slice of the fruit from Kuroo's palm.

Kuroo popped a slice into his own mouth, and the sweet slide of juice was like music against his tongue. His eyes rolled back and he sighed, "So. I'm probably going to take Iwa tonight."

Kenma looked at him from under his lashes, "You two need to be careful."

"We will," Kuroo said, cocky grin in place. He dropped back down to the desk, leaning over it to press a kiss to Kenma's sweet-stained lips. "We'll come back stocked and ready to break out," he said against Kenma's lips. Then he kissed him again, inhaling the warmth of his mouth and stealing his breath.

"Get a room!" an indistinct voice shouted from off to the left.

Kuroo flipped his middle finger in the general direction of the voice, and he felt Kenma twitch a smile under the press of his lips.

Kuroo detached and smirked, "I'll see you tonight." Then he flicked Kenma's hair once more before turning on his heel and walking out of the building, mentally preparing himself to break into military supplies later in the night.

It had the possibility of being a really good time.

#

"You ready for some fun?" Kuroo asked, blinking excitedly at Iwaizumi as Iwaizumi slid his arms into the sleeves of a hooded sweatshirt.

"As ready as I can be for you to take me prisoner," Iwaizumi answered, zipping up the hoodie with a frown.

"Aw," Kuroo said, taking a heavy step toward him and resting his hand on Iwaizumi's shoulder. His voice dropped to a low and playful whisper, " _I'll be gentle_."

Iwaizumi blinked up at him, expression calm and blank. He tilted his head almost coyly, "You better. It's my first time."

Kuroo gasped and pressed his hand to his chest, "I'm _honored_."

"I didn't really take you for a submissive Iwa-chan," Oikawa commented from across the room, head cocking to the side with his arms crossed over his chest.

Iwaizumi shrugged, "What can I say. I like a soldier who can use a shotgun and can't tame his hair."

Kuroo shook his head fondly, "A man after my own heart."

"Here," Kenma held up the handcuffs for Kuroo, the metal jingling off the tip of his fingers.

"Thank you," Kuroo chirped, flicking his hand out to grab them and moving to stand behind Iwaizumi. "Hands."

Iwaizumi threw his shoulders back, wrapping his arms behind him. Kuroo unhitched the first cuff and snapped it around Iwaizumi's wrist.

"Did you tell them?" Kenma asked as he watched the actions with passivity.

"About Bo?" Kuroo asked rhetorically, "yeah."

"It's a shame," Oikawa said, lips pulling down as he watched Iwaizumi's shoulders jostle.

"Well, they have the map and coordinates if they want to find us," Kuroo said, squeezing the metal around Iwaizumi's other wrist.

"By themselves?" Iwaizumi asked. "As if it's not dangerous enough."

"Neh," Kuroo said, moving to take a step to the side, "they could catch up easier with just two. Plus we'll be clearing a path. Hopefully."

Iwaizumi's hands were shifting around behind his back, "I don't know that it works like that."

Oikawa shrugged from across the room, "It's an option nonetheless."

Iwaizumi was still moving his arms, the metal clinking between his wrists. Kuroo was just narrowing his eyes when Iwaizumi looked back up at him, "Tighter."

" _Oh_ ," Kuroo said, stepping back behind him, "kinky."

Oikawa was shaking his head.

"If they're too loose it will look obvious," Iwaizumi explained without extra commentary.

Oikawa's bottom lip was poking out, "I wish I could break into military storage..."

Kuroo shook his head as he tightened Iwaizumi's handcuffs, "We went over this. Iwa is least recognizable while in custody, and if he actually _does_ get caught inside he might be able to convince them he reenlisted."

" _Oh_ ," Oikawa said, covering his mouth with the tips of his fingers as his eyelashes fluttered by way of taunting. "Did you hear that Iwa-chan? You pass most easily for 'nondescript brute'."

"Shut it trashkawa," Iwaizumi said dryly as Kuroo grabbed the gas mask off the table and stretched the band out so he could pull it over Iwaizumi's face. "And I still don't want to wear this thing," Iwaizumi added as Kuroo fit it to his face so it was covering his mouth and nose. "It's creepy," he informed him firmly, voice now muffled and breathy beneath the mask.

"Yeah but we bring in criminals all the time wearing them," Kuroo replied, pulling the hood of Iwa's sweatshirt over his head. "It's useful."

"Yeah yeah."

"We need two more at least," Kenma said, referring to the gas masks. "Actual gas masks. That cover our eyes."

Kuroo could see the crease in Iwaizumi's forehead. "Even creepier," his voice huffed, slightly distorted under the mask.

Kenma shrugged, "Safer."

"Don't forget your shopping list," Oikawa sing songed as he walked over to them, flipping a piece of paper over his fingers.

"Yes dear," Kuroo replied, snatching it from Oikawa's grasp.

Kenma was wordlessly gazing up at Kuroo's face, lips sitting so perfectly still that they almost _had_ to be keeping something from escaping. Kuroo blinked down at him, face softening.

"I'll be fine," Kuroo reassured him. His attention shifted to his new arrestee, "You ready to go Iwa?"

Iwaizumi gave a curt nod. Oikawa tipped his head to the side, catching Iwaizumi's gaze with his own. "Be careful," he said in a low voice, eyes pooling into something dark and soft.

Iwaizumi blinked, and Kuroo tried not to smirk as Iwaizumi's eyes jumped off to the side and he nodded.

"Alright," Kuroo said, threading his fingers through the back of Kenma's hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "Let's go."

#

Kuroo lead Iwa down dark sidewalks littered with trash and dust and rock, the crunch beneath his boots a sound he had long since grown used to. 

His hand was gripped firmly around Iwaizumi's forearm as they made their way toward the military office, whose visage was just as pathetic and dilapidated as the rest of the Zone. They encountered a couple military personnel on the streets, some giving Kuroo a curt nod and others giving him an almost-fond wave, but none of them glancing more than once at Iwaizumi. He was convincing as a criminal.

Well, Kuroo supposed he was one.

"Remember, we have one shot at this," Kuroo said softly. He was telling Iwa this even though he knew they were both fully aware, but the silence was prickling at the surface of his skin, and he was a bit desperate for something other than heavy footsteps and the clink of handcuffs.

Iwaizumi's eyes slid from side to side above his gas mask, "I know."

"If we get caught and they find supplies missing we'll immediately be implicated. And they would have far too much to charge us with-- burglary, treason, aiding and abetting, impersonating an officer, peach theft..."

Iwaizumi huffed a laugh under his mask, "Hey, I _traded_ for that peach. It was stolen before I touched it."

"Trade of stolen goods..."

 Iwaizumi shook his head, and his chuckle died down with his next words, "I know. If we fuck this up it's all dead in the water."

Kuroo threw him a quick downward glance and a smirk, "That's fine. We won't fuck up."

They approached the barred military gates that blocked off the base from the rest of the city.

Kuroo walked up to the main guard stationed outside the gate with Iwa still in tow.  "I need to take this one in," Kuroo told him casually, motioning to Iwaizumi with his other hand. "Theft past curfew."

The guard turned his gaze to Iwaizumi, but instead of a quick glance he lingered there, eyes narrowing on Iwaizumi's face.

Kuroo was swallowing, bracing himself for whatever tragedy was about to occur when Iwaizumi jostled in his hold.

"What the _fuck_ are you looking at?" Iwaizumi barked, voice overly rough and low as it hitched on something extra huffy and gasping under the cover of the mask.  

Kuroo had to try to keep his expression from looking too impressed as the guard rolled his eyes, taking a step back and flicking his hand in a quick motion to the men operating the gates. "Good luck," he said dryly, casting Iwaizumi a look of exhaustion and irritation.

Kuroo smirked, "Thanks." Once inside the gates he tilted his head toward Iwa, "Nice performance."

"Thank you," Iwaizumi responded pleasantly.

Kuroo gave a few officers a curt nod as he moved through the front doors, but once inside his eyes were flittering about to try and find a place to disassemble Iwaizumi's cover as quickly as possible. A prisoner walking around anywhere but a prison cell would look extremely suspicious.

Luckily for them nights within the base were dark and quiet. No one really wanted to tool around in a powered down base that smelled like a wet basement.

Which it did.

Kuroo ducked into a broom closet, motioning for Iwa to join him. There he undid Iwa's handcuffs and took his mask, attaching it to his utility belt. Iwaizumi was rubbing his hand against his face where the mask had indented his skin and left a deep seam over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.

"Cute," Kuroo commented.

"Shut up."

"Okay," Kuroo breathed, "now we're inside. Did you ever see where the weapon storehouse was when you were still in service?"

Iwaizumi shook his head as he unzipped his hoodie, "Didn't stick around that long."

Kuroo shoved his thumb in northward, "It's down this long corridor, to the right, then there's a heavy door to the left. None of it gets any electricity at night."

"Simple," Iwa responded.

"Our way out is going to be through the back of the base. I'll turn off the alarm system and cut through the fence with whatever we find in storage."

"Sounds decent," Iwaizumi said with a nod, "until we get caught with a duffle bag full of guns."

"Eh," Kuroo waved him off, "we'll be fine."

"Gotta love ill placed confidence."

Kuroo shrugged, "It's all I got."

Iwaizumi was shaking his head with a light chuckle as Kuroo opened the door, dipping his head into the hallway. He flicked his wrist at Iwa and took a step out, eyes constantly scanning and ears reaching for anything that might sound like an incoming officer.

They took very long, very hasty strides down the corridor. This had to be as quick and painless as possible. After making their turn Kuroo withdrew a ring of keys and attempted to flip through them without the normal telltale clink and jingle. Iwa was fidgeting nervously beside him, weight constantly shifting from one foot to the other and hands clenching in and out of fists.

Kuroo slid the key into the lock with a small prayer on his lips. When it opened he sighed, smiling as the door gave way beneath his push. Then they were at another door, a door with its own code and generator, and Iwaizumi tilted his head to look at Kuroo with that look in his eyes and crick in his eyebrow that said, "Now what?"

" _I know the code_ ," Kuroo almost sneered, taking a step forward. "What do you think I am?"

Iwaizumi just shrugged.

"I swear," Kuroo mumbled, fingers pressing against keys, "you people have no faith in me."

"Well you said none of it had electricity..."

"This has its own generator," Kuroo explained as he hit the last number of the code. "And I don't know where it is."

The door buzzed in response and the lock gave a heavy slide and a large clack as it hit the end of its track. A tiny light winked at them, green and delighted.

"Why thank you," Kuroo said, pushing down against the handle, "don't mind if I do."

The room had no light source to speak of, and the dark was deep and black enough to make Kuroo feel like the ground might actually be an illusion beneath their feet. It made him feel off balance and uneasy, like he was suspended in space. Kuroo tapped at his belt and withdrew his flashlight, clicking it on and sweeping the beam over the contents of the room, "Oh yes."

Iwaizumi took a step forward and followed the motion of Kuroo's light with a pleased nod. The room was small, but it was _full_. Guns and armor and ammo were stuffed in lockers and piled high on boxes. Everything was haphazardly thrown around, carelessly deposited without a second thought.

"Preference?" Iwaizumi asked as he took the duffle bag from Kuroo's hold and began unfolding it.

"Mm," Kuroo hummed, biting at his bottom lip. "Explosives and pistols, probably." He blinked around the room, "No way Oikawa or Kenma could utilize a semi-automatic rifle."

"They're bad on ammo anyway," Iwaizumi agreed. "And heavy. And loud."

Kuroo propped his flashlight on a box to illuminate a slightly wider area as he began digging through gear. Most of it had been worn, some of it already torn or bloodstained. But he didn't need that, he needed-- "Ah," he cooed. "Gas masks."

Iwaizumi glanced at him, then reached over and grabbed a random piece of body armor.

Kuroo cocked his eyebrow up, "Forearm guard?"

Iwa gave him a quick double take, "Oh. For Oikawa." He patted his left arm, "So his bowstring doesn't rub his arm raw."

Kuroo grinned wolfishly at him, "So sweet."

Iwa gave him a quick glare before shoving it in the bag.

"Speaking of," Kuroo said, leaning forward and grabbing a handful of carbon arrows, "Here ya go."

"Ah, thank you."

"Has he been practicing?" Kuroo asked mildly as he grabbed a revolver, some ammo and, _ooh_ , a couple grenades. They could only take as much as they could feasibly carry, so the weight of each weapon and its ammo was a big concern. Oikawa's inclination toward a bow would prove useful for that.

"Yeah," Iwa answered, moving from his crouch to go through a locker, "with that damned recurve bow. He's far better than he has any right to be."

Kuroo grabbed a couple knives. Very big. Very shiny. "Well you know how he is," Kuroo responded vaguely.

"Don't I."

Iwaizumi took a small intake of breath then, and Kuroo would daresay it sounded pleased. Kuroo glanced up to watch Iwaizumi pull a compound bow from the locker as if it was made of pure gold. Or rations.

Iwa's gaze swept over it, calculation in his eyes and reserved excitement tensing his lips. He toyed with it a bit, flicking at the string before curling two fingers around it and pulling it back to test its weight.

"How's it feel?" Kuroo asked, watching him with keen interest.

"It will be like cutting through butter after using that recurve bow," Iwaizumi responded, slowly bringing the bowstring back to neutral. "Much better for killing infected. He should be happy."

"I don't think I've ever seen an officer with a bow and arrow," Kuroo mused to himself, eyeing the thing. It was probably brought in after raiding the city for supplies. 

"Why would they want to try and learn something so complicated when they could just beat someone to death with the stick on their hip?" Iwaizumi asked without shifting his gaze.

"Sad but true," Kuroo responded dryly. Then his face lit up. "But on a happier note..." he stood and gave Iwa a broad smile, "look what I found." When Iwaizumi turned to face him Kuroo was holding up two shotguns and beaming.

Iwaizumi stared at him, "I have never been more attracted to you than I am in this moment."

Kuroo waved the barrel in front of him with a feigned blush, "Oh _stop._ "

"Anything else?" Iwaizumi asked, tossing a pistol and box of ammo in the bag. "This is getting heavy."

"I think we're good," Kuroo answered with a quick reassessment of his surroundings with the flashlight. "Hopefully we don't need all this."

"Hopefully," Iwaizumi agreed. He didn't sound convinced.

"Okay," Kuroo ignored his realism and grabbed a pair of bolt cutters, "I'm going to go cut the power to the alarm system for the fence, and you're going to wait here. When I come back we can move through real quick like."

"Sure," Iwaizumi responded. "I'll just twiddle my thumbs in the dark."

Kuroo blinked and then handed him the flashlight.

"How kind of you," Iwaizumi droned wryly.

"Always," Kuroo said, swinging the door open. He could feel Iwa's glare on the side of his face as he smiled, "I'll be right back."

Kuroo halfheartedly stuffed the bolt cutters in the side of his belt; so far, so good.

Quick steps lead him through darkened hallways, over thin corporate carpet that allowed concrete to peek through, past cracked drywall and chipped ceiling tile. As one of his footsteps ground over the ruptured sediment of the building he couldn't help but purse his lips at the thought that people actually fought to get inside this dump.

Kuroo ducked into the room closest to the exterior of the building and was met with electric boxes, wires, and the very subtle purr of electricity allocated to the sacred portions of the building where it was allowed. Electricity was a luxury these days, as almost everything was run off of smaller generators.

"Hm hmm," Kuroo hummed to himself as gloved fingers fluttered in the air. "Ah," he paused, opening up a breaker box and staring at the switches. The labels for the switches were all yellowed and peeling, old kanji well past faded and English scratched next to it in ink pen entirely unreadable. "Well this... _looks_ right?" Kuroo whispered to himself. He didn't have many options after all; most of the switches were already set into the 'off' position. Probably permanently.

He shrugged and flipped the switch. Kuroo could practically feel Iwaizumi shaking his head at him even though he wasn't here.

Kuroo ignored the imagined disapproval of Iwaizumi and paused, concentrating his hearing. He didn't hear the power down of something large, and he didn't hear the shouts of any officers around the building. That means he hadn't hit something _too_ important.

Kuroo opened the door and stuck his head into the hallway, glancing around. The building was still empty; no footsteps, no one rushing toward him with a gun. _So far, so good_.

Kuroo swung back out into the hallway and out the back door. His boots hit heavy against the packed in dirt as he walked toward the fence. _Now_ his heart was starting to race. _Now_ he was starting to feel the pressure of it all.

His eyes hit the "STOP: ELECTRIC FENCE"sign before he dropped down to his knees.

That was a lie. The fence was never electrified.

Kuroo threw a glance over his shoulder, tilting his head and allowing his pupils to readjust to the tint of moonlight over the ground. Everything had a slight edge of blue to it thanks to the moon and the darkened clouds, and he wasn't quite sure if that helped or hindered him.

It didn't really matter, at this point.

Kuroo yanked the bolt cutters from his belt and pried them open, fitting the blades around the dense metal of the fence. Kuroo whispered a very small prayer and then clamped the jaws together.

He felt the resistance against his palms just before he heard the _snap_ of metal, and the fence shivered apart.

Kuroo beamed.

He worked quickly on the rest, making the hole just large enough to fit his shoulders through. He shoved the cutout of the fence to the other side and dipped his head to glance through it. Good enough.

Kuroo was moving into a standing position and sliding one handle of the bolt cutters back into his belt when he heard the slight echo of footsteps against the wall of the building. He almost stumbled forward with all the expedience he forced into his feet, boots kicking up a puff of dust as he brushed off his knees and took a few hurried paces away from the fence.

 Kuroo's legs had just managed to find confidence in his stride when a figure breached the silhouette of the building. Kuroo swallowed, stretching out the nerves in his neck before allowing his grin to settle of his lips, "Lieutenant Nekomata."

The man almost jumped, startled by the sudden rumble of Kuroo's voice. "Kuroo-kun," he said, hands relaxing back at his sides as a smile wound across his face. "I didn't think your patrol had you around here tonight."

It wasn't an accusation; Nekomata's form was unperturbed and easy like it usually was. "I had to bring someone in," Kuroo explained simply as he came to a stop in front of the other man, bearing his weight on one hip. He mechanically flexed his wrist and stretched his arms, hoping to keep Nekomata's eyes vaguely regarding his upper body so they wouldn't take note of the bolt cutters on his hip.

"Good work but," Nekomata said, glancing around with those keen eyes of his, "why'd you leave out the back?"

Kuroo's words left his mouth before they even bothered to pass through his head, "I had to take a piss." Kuroo almost winced. He couldn't decide if he was a really great or really awful liar.

"Ah," Nekomata said with a throaty chuckle, "moonlight is better than no light."

_Let's go with 'great' then._ "Indeed," Kuroo said, smile over-large and flashing his teeth. His palms were sweating. If the starred rank on Nekomata's chest wasn't a constant reminder of his power over Kuroo the sheathed weapon at his hip certainly was. Kuroo tried to keep his eyes from catching at the katana as Nekomata shifted on his feet. The Lieutenant's hands waved by it idly as if it wasn't a big deal. Well, Kuroo supposed it _wasn't_ a big deal for him. It couldn't be for the man who had treated the steel as a part of his body for over a decade now.

Nekomata cocked his eyebrow at Kuroo, "Are you eyeing my sword son?"

Kuroo heard the buzz in his ears as his heart stalled out. _Do not make an ill timed dick joke. Do not ma--_ "Always sir," Kuroo answered, practically biting into his lip. "Just wondering when I'll earn my piece."

Nekomata chuckled at that, his entire upper half bobbing with the motion, "You'll get yours when you've done your time." He smiled then, but it was a strange thing-- a little warm but a little detached in the same moment.

"I'm working on it," Kuroo answered calmly.

"That you are," he responded with a slight stretch of his arms. "Well I was just doing a quick patrol around the building," he continued, eyes sliding around once more before moving back up to Kuroo's face. "I'm going to be at the gate all night. Feel free to stop by once you've made a few rounds."

"Of course sir."

When Nekomata smiled he did it with his whole face, and this time was no different. He gave Kuroo a small wave with crinkled eyes and rosy cheeks before turning back around, legs moving slow and leisurely back toward the entrance.

Kuroo's canine caught at his lower lip as he waited, still and sweating. Finally he stepped backward a few paces, heart loud enough in his ears to drown out the sound of his own feet, and then took a few hopping steps toward the back door.

" _Shit_ ," Kuroo sang to himself as he pushed the door inward. "That could have been _bad_."

Quick steps. Clinking boots. Bolt cutter bouncing against his side with enough force to be grating. Kuroo moved back toward the storage room with a lot less stealth and a lot more speed. For some reason the encounter with Nekomata felt like it had jarred a timer, like the luck Iwa and him had come across thus far had hit its end and was going to turn itself against them.

Kuroo couldn't help but think about the katana he wore, that all the higher ranking officers wore. _That's_ what they really needed for this excursion. Frankly they would be lucky if Oikawa or Kenma could hit _anything_ with a gun, not even considering trying to actually kill an infected with one. It would take at least a few shots to down an infected, and the sound would surely rouse others, but if they could cut its head clean off...

Kuroo frowned. Although that would involve close proximity, so in that regard a sword was a little...

Kuroo physically shook his head as he neared the end of the corridor and fumbled through his keys. He didn't need this on his mind right now. He didn't want to think about the actual odds waiting outside for them.

He slid the key into the lock and twisted, swinging it open quick enough to ruffle his bangs over his eyes. Iwaizumi was staring at the flashlight, passively clicking it on and off.

Kuroo blinked at him with some mild disbelief and a bit more amusement, "Really?"

Iwaizumi clicked it on and flashed his middle finger in the beam of light.

Kuroo sighed, stepping into the room and hoisting the bag of supplies over his shoulder. 

"Took you a little longer than I thought it would," Iwaizumi commented, watching Kuroo unzip the bag to throw the bolt cutters inside with the rest of their goods. "Something happen?" he took a step out the door to hold it open for Kuroo.

"Not exactly," Kuroo answered without making eye contact.

Iwaizumi frowned, "I don't like that answer at all." He glanced down the hall as Kuroo zipped the bag closed.

"Let's just move quickly an--" Kuroo was interrupted by the shove of Iwaizumi's palms against his chest. Kuroo staggered backwards into the room, eyes blowing wide, "Iwa what the fu--" and then Iwaizumi closed the door in front of his face.

That's when Kuroo heard the muffled, "Hey!" from the other side of the door. Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut as his hand tightened around the strap of the bag. 

_Fuck_.

 

III

"Leave." "Outside." " _Come with us_."

Kageyama was huffing as he paced through the interior of the base.

He shouldn't even be here right now; he had switched shifts with Inuoka because "Kuroo-taichou switched all my shifts for this week to night shift and it _sucks_."

Kageyama had never worked overnight before. He could give it a shot.

He could pretend _that_ was the reason he hadn't seen Hinata.

Kageyama sighed. Night shift was a bit boring. Since curfew was in full effect there weren't any civilians to deal with, no lines to keep in order, and no people to stare at him like he was a convicted felon walking the streets.

It was as peaceful as it was lonely.

Kageyama had decided to patrol indoors for a bit after the constant yammering of his squad mates. Apparently a small group had been sent to look for some supplies in the surrounding city-- the ruins of the city, rather-- and they hadn't returned. No one had really been worried about that minor expedition, and now they were missing and every moment that passed made it feel less and less likely that they would return.

And Hinata wanted to _leave?_

Kageyama shook his head. It made no sense.

Kageyama's brow was pulling tight. It made no sense, and it seemed entirely foolish, so why was he so compelled to say _yes_?

He halted in the midst of his pacing, ears picking up what sounded like whispering. It was low and almost indiscernible, but it was _there_ for sure.

Kageyama tilted the beam of his flashlight toward the ground, his other hand moving to rest on his night stick. He moved forward at an angle, feet progressing forward sideways as his boots pressed flush against the concrete.

He titled his body, pressing his shoulder against the wall, and as he turned to glance down the hallway he could see the movement of a figure. He couldn't make out anything specific; it was too dark and the corridor was too long, but he knew that _someone_ was there.

As he was leaning his flashlight bobbed in his grasp and into the view of the hallway, and he watched the shadow jump to attention. Kageyama grit his teeth, internally cursing himself before yelling out an authoritative "Hey!"

That hall was a dead end but Kageyama traversed it with speed anyway, throwing his shoulders back and keeping his hand at the ready next to his belt.

"Oi," Kageyama repeated, the shadow blanching into actual form under the blaze of his light, "What are you--" Kageyama's lips stilled as his eyes finally worked over the person in front of him; tousled hair, steel eyes, and natural frown registering as something very familiar. He swallowed as Iwaizumi squinted against the light, passively holding up his hands. "I-Iwaizumi-tai--" Kageyama coughed, clearing his throat, "Iwaizumi-san? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Kageyama-kun," Iwaizumi said, dropping his hands, "it's been a long time. You scared me a bit."

Scared _you?_ Kageyama lightly shook his head, "Sorry. Um," his lips pulled down at the corners as his eyes swept over Iwaizumi's clothing. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and he didn't have anything with him. "What are you doing here?" Kageyama finally asked.

"Oh," Iwaizumi said, ruffling the back of his hair, "I reenlisted." Kageyama blinked, the words pleasing to his ears. Iwaizumi went on with a point over his shoulder, "I actually just came by to see if you guys had any fatigues that would fit me laying around," his lips fell into a lopsided grin, "mine got ruined a long time ago."

"Oh," and Kageyama's eyelashes fluttered a bit, "well you could have waited until your first shift. They wouldn't be back here, though."

Iwaizumi sighed, "I didn't want to bother anyone with it if I could just do it myself, but..." Iwaizumi's eyes dropped to the floor, "I didn't realize how unaccustomed to the building I was..."

Kageyama almost smiled. For the short time Iwaizumi had been in the military after transferring zones Kageyama had been assigned under him. He had been a very good captain. "I can show you where they'd be?" Kageyama offered. "But it might be difficult searching for them in the dark."

Iwaizumi's face was stuck in a strange expression, his eyes sliding off to the side

Kageyama narrowed his eyes. Wasn't this all a little strange? "What's wrong?" he asked, voice maybe a little too low. His heart started to beat into a quicker rhythm. Apprehensive. Distrustful.

"Nothing," Iwaizumi said, his mouth twisting around. He brought his eyes back up to Kageyama, and for a moment they stared at each other, gazes hard and unwavering. Kageyama felt his pulse fluttering, his hand twitching back beside his belt. Iwaizumi's gaze didn't flicker but Kageyama knew he saw it; he knew Iwaizumi could read the almost imperceptible shift of movement.

"It's just..." Iwaizumi broke eye contact, and for a moment his gaze landed heavily on the weaponry at Kageyama's waist. Kageyama felt his blood freeze. "When I came in I started having some doubts."

Kageyama felt his body go lax in confusion. "What?" he asked.

Iwaizumi rolled his head around his neck, "The military, you know?" He blinked back at Kageyama, face earnest, "The corruption. The violence. There was a reason I left, so..." his eyes fell away again.

Kageyama felt his entire body relax, his head tilting to the side. "Oh," he said with a few startled blinks. "I understand that Iwaizumi-san. But," and Kageyama nodded as he spoke, "I think someone like you could help to change things from the inside."

Iwaizumi stared at him. For a moment his face was so unreadable that it made Kageyama a bit uneasy. But then he wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand, voice low and humble, "You think so?"

"Yes sir," Kageyama answered, back stiffening. "Of course sir." He felt like he should salute or something, but he also felt like that was a bit misplaced.

Iwaizumi chuckled, "You're a good kid Kageyama."

"I do my best."

Iwaizumi was still laughing as he shook his head and took a few steps forward, "Keep it up. And could you point me in the direction of the clothing storage?"

"Yes," Kageyama answered promptly. "They're actually the wing opposite this one. Second door on the left."

Iwaizumi afforded Kageyama a small grin, and Kageyama felt his face flush a little. "Thanks Kageyama-kun. I'll see you at work."

"Yessir," Kageyama answered, boots clinking together. He almost saluted again. He held it in.

Iwaizumi gave him a small wave and walked away. Kageyama's face was a little flustered as he walked back toward the front doors for the rest of his patrol. He wondered if he would be under Iwaizumi's command again. Would they reinstate him at the same rank? They should simply for the work he put into clearing around the Zone when he first showed up. Maybe they'd work the same shifts. If Iwaizumi helped him with his target shooting again that would be really nice. Iwaizumi had been really steady with a firearm. He _had_ fought outside the walls after all. Maybe he could ask him about the infected. Maybe--

Kageyama stilled for a moment as a thought slid to the forefront of his mind. Maybe Iwaizumi could help him convince Hinata not to leave the Zone.

 

IV

Iwaizumi ducked down low, peering around the corner.

He had heard the open and close of the front doors, Kageyama's footsteps bleeding out of his hearing and joining the muffled noises on the exterior of the building.

That was bullshit.

Iwaizumi stood, making haste across the lobby and down the northern corridor. He didn't bother to keep his boots or breath silent, he just moved _quickly_.

He opened the door concealing Kuroo to find him staring at him with wide eyes.

"Not how I wanted this to go," Iwaizumi informed him as he quickly motioned with his hands for Kuroo to pick the bag up and move. "I just had to do critical thinking as to whether or not I was going to have to choke out one of my recruits."

"He wasn't even supposed to be _working_ tonight," Kuroo said, heaving the bag back over his shoulder and stepping out the room. "I purposefully scheduled Inuoka to work nights this week because I knew he wouldn't patrol inside." Kuroo paused to lock the door behind him, "This building creeps him out when it's dark."

Iwaizumi would have laughed if he wasn't too busy focusing on the fact that sweat was pulsing out of his pores with every beat of his heart.

Kuroo smiled over his shoulder then, "Good thing Kageyama sees you as a god in fatigues."

Iwaizumi's mouth pulled down, and he just gave him a flat look, "Hurry up."

"Yeah I know," Kuroo stepped away from the door, tugging the key free of the rest. When they made it out of the corridor Kuroo flicked the key across the room with his thumb and it hit a wall, falling into the shadow of a forgotten corner.

"What the hell?" Iwaizumi asked as they moved around a wall to make their way outside.

"Do you actually think they let me have that key?" Kuroo asked him. He shook his head before Iwaizumi could answer, "I had to get Nekomata shitfaced on old vodka and steal it off his key ring."

Iwaizumi's head tipped back, "Oh my _God_."

Kuroo raised his eyebrows, "You guys don't appreciate me enough." He frowned and gave Iwaizumi a serious look, "Do you have any idea what that man is like drunk?"

Iwaizumi was shaking his head as Kuroo pushed through the outer door, his head bobbing around for a quick survey of their surroundings before motioning him forward. Kuroo had cut into the fence just behind the building, giving them a small amount of cover from any incoming patrols. Kuroo dipped down to his knees, pushing the duffle bag through before following it himself, shoulders lightly catching at the exposed scratch of the metal.

He boots scuffled against the dirt before he fully shoved himself through, and Iwaizumi had already dropped down to his palms to follow.

He held back a cough as he inhaled a cloud of dirt, fingers digging into the dry ground and pulling him forward through the thinning grass.

Kuroo extended his hand to help him up, duffle bag already sagging against its own weight on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Iwaizumi said, hands dropping down to zip up his hoodie, "I'll take point."

Kuroo handed him the gas mask and Iwaizumi took it with a grimace, fitting it back over his face before Kuroo flipped his hood over his hair.

"After you, 'nondescript brute'," Kuroo said with a grand motion toward the city.

"I'm going to kick both of your asses," Iwaizumi mumbled as he jogged forward, eager to put concrete walls and buildings between him and the guards as quickly as possible.

They rounded the fence in a wide arc, eyes always stationed off toward the entrance of the base. Soon the city was spiking up around them, tiny abandoned buildings evolving into larger, more menacing ones. Iwaizumi allowed himself to drown in the chill and echo of the walls, thankful for their coverage as they ducked across open streets and into dark alleys.

Iwaizumi blinked, pausing in his steps and forcing instantaneous stillness from Kuroo. He could make out a shadow down the length of the alley, and Iwaizumi wasn't even sure if the whisper of boots scraping against pavement was actually there or just his imagination.

Kuroo leaned forward, chin almost hovering over Iwaizumi's shoulder. His eyes narrowed and focused on the blurred outline before them, skin pinching between his brows. When Iwaizumi glanced to the side he could actually see Kuroo's eyes become of pit of pure black pupil, adjusting scarily to the dark and greedily sucking up any amount of light he could find.

"Civilian," he whispered.

"Your eyesight creeps me out," was all Iwaizumi had to offer him.

Kuroo gave him a snarky grin and they moved forward. The ground was a little wet in this alley, maybe from poor drainage since Iwaizumi couldn't remember the last time it rained well, and he was not fond of the extra squeak it etched out from the sole of his boots.

Iwaizumi's legs were thrumming with energy, anxiousness sparking in his steps and at his fingertips. As he moved to turn a corner his eyes hit on a patrolling guard, and he hopped back a step and smacked his hand against Kuroo's chest.

Kuroo came to a heavy stop, boots squeaking loud enough to fissure an echo out over the concrete walls. Kuroo cringed, but that didn't matter; the guard probably saw Iwaizumi anyway.

Iwaizumi was already taking swaggering steps back out into the alley when the guard barked a threatening, "Hey!"

Iwaizumi ducked his head, wordlessly acknowledging the guard and lifting his hands as he took a few steps toward him.

"You know it's after curfew," the guard warned in a way that was certainly not a question. The moment his eyes hit Iwaizumi's gas mask he slid his night stick from his belt, palm tightening around it. Iwaizumi gave a heavy shrug, the motion over exaggerated with nonchalance as he took a few more bobbing steps toward him.

"Look I don't got anything," Iwaizumi bristled at him, hands flipping back and forth to acknowledge their emptiness. He closed even more space between them; enough space to see the light of the other's eyes in the filter of moonlight.

The guard rolled his eyes, "Just get on your knees and put your hands behind your back."

"Sure, sure," and as Iwaizumi went to drop his hands down he swung his right fist forward, punching up into the guard's gut.

The guard heaved, but was already swinging his night stick at Iwaizumi's face with a wide forward arc. Iwaizumi ducked into a crouch, popped back up to crack him quick in the nose and jam his foot into the side of the guard's knee.

The officer grunted, knee hitting the pavement hard as Iwaizumi sidestepped behind him and locked his arm around the his neck.

The officer gasped, eyes going wide and feet kicking out wildly as Iwaizumi used his other arm to squeeze pressure on both sides of the guard's neck.

Iwaizumi watched his face flush, cheeks burning under the cool tint of the moon as he writhed around in panic. His left hand clawed at Iwaizumi's arm, fingernails digging into his flesh.

9\. 10. 11.

The officer's eyelashes began to flutter, his motions growing lackluster. Iwaizumi felt the grate of crushed gasps move through the guard's throat and against his arm.

13\. 14. 15...

His eyes closed. Iwaizumi felt his limbs go heavy, lack of blood flow to his brain short-circuiting his movements, and his fingers went slack around his night stick. Iwaizumi waited another small moment, then slowly lowered him to the ground.

He stood, and when he glanced to the side Kuroo was peeking around the corner to watch the altercation with eyes a bit too starry.

Iwaizumi nodded in the direction of the apartment, "Let's go before he wakes up."

Kuroo stepped around the building to follow him, duffle bag still safely slung over his shoulder.

#

When they reached the apartment it felt like a dream.

Familiar walls bowed around Iwaizumi, clinging to him as he shakily slid his key into the lock. He ushered Kuroo in and then closed the door behind them, flicking the lock into place with a heavy sigh.

Oikawa and Kenma both seemed to take a reserved sort of inhale, their eyes focusing hard on Iwaizumi and Kuroo's face. Their hands and bodies were almost too still, like they worried it was a dream as well.

Kuroo dropped the bag on the floor, and Oikawa and Kenma's eyes blinked down at it before turning back up to them.

Oikawa was finally able to work his mouth around words, hesitant as they were, "How'd it go?"

Kuroo and Iwaizumi exchanged glances. There was a pause.

"Well," Kuroo began with a shrug, "we're not dead or in jail, so..."

Kenma and Oikawa's faces furrowed inward in unison. Iwaizumi just gave a small nod in agreement.

Kuroo pointed at Iwaizumi, "And he choked a guy."

"That's true," Iwaizumi responded, head still nodding, "I did choke a guy."

"That was good work, I haven't seen that in a long time."

"Thank you."

Oikawa and Kenma were staring at them.

Silence fell again. Iwaizumi pursed his lips, patting his hands against his legs, "Well, I'm going the fuck to bed."

Kuroo gave a curt nod as he stepped toward the couch, "Me too. Hope you guys are ready to split tomorrow because we stole... _a lot of shit_."

Iwaizumi threw his sweatshirt on the floor and went into the bedroom to collapse on his cot without another word. He was trying not to think about tomorrow, eyelids sagging closed and darkness pulling his thoughts down into something deep and hazy. There was the slight rustle of the bag, some clinking and a mumble or two from Kuroo, but for the most part Iwaizumi just heard the buzz of his own ears and the beat of his own breath.

But then he heard a gasp, startled and excited, followed by the words, "A _bow_."

Iwaizumi smiled against his arm, and all the tension slid out of his shoulders before he dipped into the final thralls of sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quietly puts Kuroo in a BROTP with literally everyone*  
> "Ah yes. This looks right."
> 
> http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/


	3. Ready Aim Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You guys know the plan," Kuroo said, turning to glance at them as they filed out behind him. 
> 
> Iwaizumi's mouth was a single dry line, "I have literally no idea what the plan is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Imagine Dragons song by the same name. Yeah, I'm using song titles. I'm not happy about it either. 
> 
> On that note, shout-out to all the friends feeding me pertinent western music for this fic, since I live under a J-rock.  
> ...  
> I'll see myself out.

I

Tsukishima's eyes opened slow. Like this he could watch the burn of the sun work into the sky, red singeing away the black and breaking the sky open into clear, hollow blue.

He laid there for a moment, eyes focused through the dirtied glass of the window. He couldn't remember the last dawn he hadn't seen. His body knew when to sleep and when to wake, and it was all timed around the rise and fall of that sun. He shifted, picking his glasses up off the weathered wood of the nightstand beside him. He rubbed his eyes first, pinching his nose as his legs hung over the edge of the bed.

It was as quiet as mornings usually were. The creak of the mattress under the shift of Tsukishima's weight was the only sound in the room, followed by the soft padding of his footsteps.

Yamaguchi was still curled on the couch, one arm drawn up against his chest and the other bent beneath his head, acting as a cushion for his cheek. Tsukishima kept offering to switch places but Yamaguchi kept refusing. Something about Tsukishima being too tall for the couch.

He was already stirring by the time Tsukishima was sitting down at the dining table. Tsukishima was staring blankly at the table, mind still working through the haze of sleep, when Yamaguchi sat down across from him. He yawned wide, eyes pinching shut before he covered his face with his hands, grinding his fingers against his eyes and covering the gape of his mouth.

When his hands dropped back down he blinked almost as if dizzy. Yamaguchi was slow and quiet to wake up, which was more than okay with Tsukishima. The sunlight peered over the boarded up window in the kitchen, lighting up Yamaguchi's cheeks and making his freckles spark life against his skin.

Yamaguchi had all these small habits that Tsukishima doubted he was aware of. For instance, the way his fingers were currently pressing in against the surface of the table, and how he would pick up tiny objects-- pens, arrows, bullets-- and squeeze against them like he was attempting to force sensation into his sleepy fingers. Then he would splay his fingers out, stretch his hands as wide as they could go, and twist them around on his wrists.

Eventually his hands would come together and he would tap his fingertips against one another. Yamaguchi's eyes were always directed at the motions, but he never seemed to be _watching_ them, his mind off somewhere Tsukishima couldn't see. During the process Yamaguchi's face slowly warmed, eyes blinking away the blurred edge of sleep and taking on something brighter, something more apt to tip into a smile at any moment.

These early mornings had given Tsukishima ample time to study Yamaguchi, so much so that the passive observation had almost become his own morning routine in and of itself.

It was irritating.

They were both staring at the table, their hands, the slow slide of the sun moving to encompass more of the kitchen, when they heard a muffled sound. A muffled explosion.

It sounded like an impact against over-hard dirt, and then the responsive flare and scattering of said dirt. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi both tilted their heads at one another, eyebrows hitching high on their foreheads.

It didn't sound like one of their traps. And the placement, the distance, that sounded wrong too. The silence that followed was also a bit queer. They both stared at each other, faces not bothering to move out of their morning calm as they waited for any indication as to what had set it off. But there was none, the wind didn't even bother to blow, and they were left with gold sunlight on a crappy dining table just like before.

Yamaguchi gave a small shrug with a tiny pout of his lower lip, "Wanna check it out?"

Tsukishima cracked his neck before standing, eyes blinking over to his crossbow, "Might as well."

Yamaguchi scooped up his backpack, the glass of the bottles inside softly clinking against one another as he slid it over his shoulders. Tsukishima waited at the front door, hand resting on the handle as Yamaguchi quickly shoved his feet into his boots. When he trotted over Tsukishima opened the door and squinted against the brilliant yellow of the morning sun.

They walked in the general direction of the sound, Yamaguchi with both his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack and Tsukishima with his crossbow loaded at his side. He wasn't really worried, and perhaps that was a sense that developed after living so desperately for so long. Yamaguchi didn't seem perturbed either. His steps were bouncing enough to almost look as if they were attempting to repress a skip.

 Tsukishima yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. He started paying a bit more attention as they neared the outskirts of their little suburb, the pavement cracking even more tremendously and allowing trees and flowers to arc up through the concrete. The sheer amount of green made the air hum with color, altering the palette and tinting it natural and organic.

They hadn't traversed this part of town before; there was nothing useful to raid and they already had traps set within the perimeter, so it hadn't been necessary. The further away they got from their devices the more uneasy Tsukishima felt. They were just beginning to cross the outermost road of town when Yamaguchi stopped, hand lightly moving up to cover his mouth as his eyes went wide. Tsukishima followed his gaze, pausing beside him.

Just past the road and at the edge of the trees was...

Tsukishima squinted. Well it _had_ been a spotted deer, probably. Tsukishima pushed his glasses further up his nose as Yamaguchi tilted his head away from the mangled body.

"What could have even done that?" he asked, eyes still hooked on the remains of the animal.

Tsukishima cocked his head to the side, "Landmine, maybe?"

Yamaguchi blinked up at him, hands returning to their hold on his backpack, "We didn't plant any of those, did we?"

Tsukishima shook his head, "No. It must have been whoever was taking up residence here before us."

Yamaguchi moved to take a step forward and Tsukishima stuck out his arm, bracing his forearm against Yamaguchi's chest. Yamaguchi stopped, glancing up at Tsukishima and then back down again, feet returning to a still position.

"We don't know where they planted them," Tsukishima told him.

Yamaguchi just nodded. He was wringing his hands, dipping his head back and forth to glance at the ground. "We have plenty of canned food, but..."

There was a silence as Tsukishima thought, eying the body. It was a lot of meat. "I'll figure something out," he finally said. Hopefully.

"Hey," Yamaguchi said, regarding him with that pleasant optimism again, "even though we have enough food it's really nice out. Want to grab some fruit?"

Tsukishima shifted the grip on his crossbow, "I don't really care. Sure."

Yamaguchi smiled then, hands ceasing in their wringing to squeeze against one another. "Let's go this way," he directed, back toward the pieces of town they had canvassed. "I think there were some tomatoes growing over here too..."

Tsukishima followed Yamaguchi without much thought. He was attempting to work out how he could check for landmines while Yamaguchi bounced ahead of him.

"Oh look," they both came to a stop, and it was obvious why once Tsukishima took a breath. The smell of peaches was strong and pungent, overwhelming his senses. "Let's pick some of these," Yamaguchi directed, approaching the peach tree with shining eyes.

Tsukishima tugged at a peach, testing its firmness in his hand. "I don't know how to tell if they're ready or not," he said, loosing it from his palm and watching it spring back up on its branch.

"Shimada-san told me you want just a _tiny_ bit of softness to it. Nothing mushy. Nothing hard."

Tsukishima glanced over at Yamaguchi. Shimada-san, right.

When Tsukishima had first come across Yamaguchi he had been starving and injured, recently separated from his mentor. "Had you travelled with Shimada-san a long time?" Tsukishima asked, pulling his gaze away from Yamaguchi and plucking a peach from the tree.

"Mm," Yamaguchi considered the question. "Yeah, I guess so."

Tsukishima found his eyes back on the side of Yamaguchi's face, "Where were your parents?"

Yamaguchi put the peach he had in his hands into his bag, face unchanging, "Where are anyone's parents?"

Tsukishima looked back to the tree, eyes sifting through green and yellow and pink. He didn't say anything.

Yamaguchi's face was pulled upward, bright in the early morning sun, "I heard in the Zones they distribute food."

The wind carded through Tsukishima's hair as he pushed his glasses up on his nose, "They also don't have enough of it."

"Have you ever lived in a Zone?" Yamaguchi asked, blinking over at him with wide eyes.

Tsukishima walked over to Yamaguchi to deposit a couple peaches into his backpack. The bright fruit sat beside premade molotov cocktails and a lighter. Tsukishima thought the symbolism suited Yamaguchi pretty well.

"No," he eventually answered, taking a few steps back. "I didn't. But my parents did."

"Seems kinda scary," Yamaguchi said, wiping the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. "Not having control of your own life and all."

Tsukishima dusted his hands off against his pants, "They think the infected are scary."

"The infected _are_ scary," Yamaguchi agreed. He blinked, long eyelashes shading his cheeks with thin shadows, "But I think humans are much scarier."

Tsukishima slowly brought his eyes back to Yamaguchi's face.

He threw up his hands. "Oh, sorry Tsukki," he apologized. "Did I offend you?"

The wind fluttered Yamaguchi's hair over his forehead. "No," Tsukishima answered. Dark memories spilled behind his eyes, and he immediately shut them out, forced them back down where they belonged. "I was just thinking that I couldn't agree more."

 

II

Iwaizumi climbed the stairs to his apartment.

He had finished. He had traded all his ration cards for available food and supplies, slipped a few under the doors of families he knew could use them, and doled out any other sort of useable belongings to his friends in the black market. He had handed Bokuto a bag full of supplies, and Bokuto had taken it with a strange look in his eyes. It made Iwaizumi uncomfortable.

He rolled the tension out of his shoulders as he walked. Iwaizumi felt odd, detached from himself. He felt like he was hearing things he normally wouldn't hear, like his senses were sharpened just for the sake of driving him crazy. It made the walls and air feel cloying, made his blood itch in his veins as it pumped too fast and too rough through his limbs. Everything felt like an accusation, everything felt like a set of eyes on the back of his neck.

How many years had Iwaizumi worked the black market and never once felt even the slightest bit of paranoia?

Iwaizumi heaved a breath, cursing himself internally and biting his thoughts into his lip.

He needed to purge it, squelch it, destroy every last bit of anxiety blooming up from his chest. Tonight they needed clarity and focus. Tonight they needed everything to go right.

Iwaizumi was fumbling around with his keys in front of his door. Were his fingers really unsteady? Pathetic.

Iwaizumi swore he could feel each individual pin nestle in against the ridge of his key before it clicked into place. Everything he did felt so loud.

When he swung the door open he managed one heavy step into the apartment before he paused. Oikawa was standing on the other side of the room, one arm leaning against the wall as he stared out the window. He didn't acknowledge Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi curled his fingers around his keys before sliding them back into his pocket, keeping them as quiet as possible. Oikawa's eyes were unfocused and far away, well beyond the confines of this room or the street below them.

Iwaizumi took a small side step to close the door behind him, boots still thunking against the laminate as he shuffled. It wasn't until the door clicked closed under the weight of Iwaizumi's palm that Oikawa finally acknowledged him. His head tilted, eyes sliding in their sockets as his body remained still in its station next to the window.

"You alright?" Iwaizumi asked in a low grumble, taking a few heavy soled steps toward Oikawa.

"Mm," Oikawa confirmed before tipping his head back down to gaze through the grimed glass of the window.

Iwaizumi stepped up beside him, feet coming to a halt once he could blink through the fogged panes of glass for himself. He didn't want to ask, but he did anyway, "Worried?"

Nothing in Oikawa's expression shifted. "Well," and when his lips closed over the word his mouth pinched into a bitter line for half a second, "all this is my idea. So if anything goes wrong..." He left Iwaizumi with the implications of his words.

Iwaizumi reached into his pocket, pulling out the one cigarette he had allotted for himself today along with his lighter. He propped it in his mouth, lips moving around it to speak as he flicked his thumb over the flint wheel, "We all agreed to it."

Oikawa pursed his lips. The third strike of Iwaizumi's thumb finally summoned a spark, and he lead the flame to his cigarette with the protection of his palm. He inhaled against the flame, smoke rushing into his mouth and down his throat. Oikawa watched the motion, then sent his eyes back down to the street with his next words, "Koushi's not coming either."

Iwaizumi's eyebrows hitched up slightly at the softness of Oikawa's voice. Iwaizumi pulled his cigarette from his mouth with one hand as he moved to lean against the opposite side of the window with his other arm. He exhaled his words with a puff of smoke, "That's unfortunate."

Oikawa blinked an eye roll, "He's a doctor. It's a lot more than 'unfortunate'." His mouth fell into a tense downward curve before his voice dropped, "It will just be us now."

Iwaizumi shrugged one shoulder, taking another deep inhale. The sting in his lungs was almost enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, _was_ enough to inflate his chest and shoulders with a bitter sort of comfort. "Groups of four to six are better anyway. And plus, don't him and Sawamura have a kid? We can't bring a kid out there."

The noise Oikawa made was somewhere between a huff of exasperation and a laugh, "They took an orphan into their household Iwa-chan; he's not even that much younger than us."

Iwaizumi's lips pulled down thoughtfully, "Really? Huh. He's so... small."

Oikawa's lips were curling into a wry smile that Iwaizumi could tell he was trying to repress. "You're so simple minded," Oikawa said with a shake of his head.

Iwaizumi almost grinned, but everything felt a bit weighted down and muted with the air being as dense as it was. "Shut up," he responded instead, no heat behind his words. He took another drag of his cigarette, long and slow, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Once he had completely expelled the smoke through his nose his eyes slid open, only to see Oikawa staring holes into his face. Iwaizumi almost jumped.

"Let me have a drag," Oikawa said, a weird sharpness cutting into his irises and boring into Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi's lip pulled up into a sneer, "What? No." He took another inhale, his next exhale containing the words, "It's poisonous shit you don't need."

Oikawa tilted his head to the side, his eyes doing that weird thing where they go just a little too wide and a little too focused, the chocolate of his irises flat and blocking off the thoughts behind them. "I just want to taste it," he stated simply.

Iwaizumi's features crunched in on themselves, face gone incredulous, "You're weird, no."

Oikawa's expression didn't flicker or falter. Iwaizumi elected to ignore him, filling his lungs with smoke and watching the flame crawl up his cigarette all too quickly. Oikawa leaned forward a little, peering at Iwaizumi like his eyes could clearly see something his couldn't.

That wouldn't surprise Iwaizumi, really.

He was just acting strange because he was stressed, just like Iwaizumi had been on his way home. Iwaizumi flicked his cigarette with his thumb, eyes blinking slow as he opened his mouth and allowed smoke to roll over his lips.

Oikawa leaned forward then, freezing Iwaizumi's heart and fingers in place, and inhaled the smoke that left Iwaizumi's mouth. His face was so close, his _lips_ were so close, so close that as he stole Iwaizumi's breath and took it for his own Iwaizumi could _feel_ the pull of air over his own lips.

The last tendril of smoke snaked from the back of Iwaizumi's throat, charmed out of him and into the sweet confines of Oikawa's mouth, and as Oikawa finished his inhale his eyes slid up to meet Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi couldn't move. They were both still and silent, Oikawa's eyes unwavering even as he exhaled a thin puff of smoke over Iwaizumi's lips.

Iwaizumi wanted to breathe it in. The smoke, the breath, any word that left Oikawa's mouth he wanted to taste in the back of his throat. His vision tore apart at the edges. Oikawa had stolen all of his breath and replaced it with fire.

Iwaizumi felt his shoulders tip. His eyes were slipping, falling, pooling around the plush of Oikawa's mouth. He felt his hand rising, cigarette butt abandoned on cracked linoleum in favor of seeking out the feel of Oikawa's jaw under his palm. He wanted to look at Oikawa's eyes, he wanted to confirm that they dropped to Iwaizumi's mouth like he thought they might have, but he couldn't because his gaze was too firmly anchored on that lower lip. His chest was bursting, and maybe his hand was shaking, and maybe Oikawa's shoulders were squaring up to him and maybe, Jesus, _maybe_ \--

The front door slammed open with an almost shouted, "Guys--"

Iwaizumi was certain that the unprecedented amount of rage in his eyes was the reason Kuroo actually took a staggering step backward. The reflexive cringe that worked across his face when he saw their positioning was so full of lamentation that Iwaizumi almost forgave him.

_Almost_.

"It's time?" Kuroo managed in a thin voice, his previous expedience now replaced with something that sounded like an apology. "We have to get moving..."

Oikawa's chin tilted up as he straightened his back, the cocky lilt of his lips reflecting in the spark of his eyes. "Alright," he responded easily. Confidence was suddenly rolling off him in waves, and when he glanced back at Iwaizumi there was no trace of any of the exchange they'd just had on his face, "Get your things Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi was so hazed over with rage that he couldn't even make words. He walked over to the table and yanked his bag up over his shoulder. Kuroo was looking at him, lips twisted down into a grimace and shoulders pulling together like a cat backed into a corner. He mouthed the word, _'Sorry'_.

Iwaizumi shoved his hand into his bag, grabbed another cigarette, then lit it and sucked down a third of it in one swallow. Kuroo watched it deflate into dry gray flakes and fall into a pile of ash on the table with wide eyes.

"Oh Iwa-chan," Oikawa said with a grin and wave of his hand as he hoisted his own bag over his shoulder, "we'll be just fine, no need to stress over it."

Iwaizumi wasn't sure who he wanted to brutalize more-- Oikawa, Kuroo, or himself.

###

Kuroo awkwardly rose up from his heels onto his toes, repeating the motion as Oikawa and Iwa gathered up the last of the supplies.

Well, Iwaizumi was probably going to hate him forever now, so that was great.

"Ready!" Oikawa announced with a beaming smile.

Iwa buckled the last piece of his vest closed and jostled his bag over his shoulder. He inhaled the end of his cigarette, bringing the flame right down to the filter before he flicked it into the ashtray. "Let's go," he said dryly, smoke pouring over his lips with the words. Iwa's combat gear was a spackled mess of military issued garb and commoner crap-- a nylon vest and leather boots, plaid shirt and black market-made weapon holsters.

"I love the way you accessorize," Kuroo commented fondly.

Iwa shot him a sharp glare, "Remember I have a loaded weapon."

"Iwa-chan is so testy tonight," Oikawa chirped from behind them. His smile was broad and his eyes were bright, but Kuroo could still see the slight shake in Oikawa's fingers as he thumbed at his bow.

Well, they were all nervous.

Kuroo walked through the door of the apartment and into the hallway where Kenma was waiting, squeezing at the strap of his backpack and scanning over the map of guard routes Kuroo had brought him. "You guys know the plan," Kuroo said, turning to glance at them as they filed out behind him.

Iwaizumi's mouth was a single dry line, "I have literally no idea what the plan is."

Oikawa shut the door behind him, and when he moved to lock it he paused, twisted his mouth, and then turned back around without bothering.

Kuroo sighed as he started walking, "It's simple--"

"Like stealing the weapons had been," Iwa grumbled.

"Yes," Kuroo said with a wide grin, "just like that."

"Jesus Christ."

"So," Kuroo continued as they made their way down the hallway and toward the stairs, "I moved things around so that my guard route for tonight encompassed a large area of where we need to go, so we'll have fewer soldiers to worry about."

"Excellent," Oikawa cooed, practically bouncing in step beside them.

"We all know there are two gates," Kuroo said, holding up his fingers as he shouldered a door open to moved down the stairwell. "The inner gate, which is most heavily guarded, and the exterior gate."

"And you plan to get us past all the guards at the inner gate how?" Iwa asked, voice dipping into something faithless.

"Skip it," Kuroo answered.

"Skip it?" Oikawa and Iwa responded in unison.

Kuroo nodded once, feet hitting the bottom of the stairwell, "There are internal guard tunnels in certain parts of the city so officers can move about and not worry about citizens seeing us."

"Sounds suspicious," Oikawa said wryly.

"It is," Kuroo agreed. "But we're going to use them to bypass all of the guards and city workers at the Zone entrance.

"Sounds too good to be true..." Oikawa mused as they moved through the lobby and out into the settling dusk outside.

"Well..." Kuroo's eyes slid to the side, "we do have officers stationed within the tunnels..." he ruffled the back of his hair, "We'll probably have to knock a few out."

"That sounds better," Oikawa responded quaintly.

"It shows here that only two guards are at the outermost gate at night," Kenma said quietly, bringing his eyes up to Kuroo. "Is that true?"

"Well yes," Kuroo responded as he led them behind a few buildings to dip into an alley. "We don't send patrols out at night, so they're not expected to deal with anyone."

Kenma was blinking in consideration down at the map, "And how do we make sure we don't alarm anyone with the guards we'll have to incapacitate?" Kenma folded the map into his palms as he peered up at Kuroo.

Kuroo cleared his throat, "Move quickly."

"It is," Iwa said, face gone blank. "It's the weapon theft all over again."

"It's a Kuroo plan," Oikawa mumbled.

" _The weapon thing went fine,_ " Kuroo hissed. He mindlessly rested his hand on his night stick, "This will go fine too."

"He really has no idea," Oikawa commented.

"It's Kuroo Confidence," Iwa agreed.

Kuroo came to a stop, sliding a key into a beaten old lock. He flung the door open and pointed, "All three of you shut up and get in the suspicious military tunnel."

"Yessir."

"Yessir."

Kenma just blinked up at him before following the other two, and once he was through Kuroo closed the door behind them. "I'll take point," he offered. "Kenma keep watch behind us please."

"Okay."

The tunnels weren't so much tunnels as they were dingy concrete holdings that allowed the military personnel to sneak around the city without citizens being aware of their movements. Toward the inner city the ground was cracked concrete, but the further you got to the exterior the more it degraded down into gravel and rock, then soil speckled with litter. The walls were stained by time and the elements, the dirt and soot singeing into the concrete.

"This is a dump," Oikawa observed politely.

"Only as much as the rest of the city," Kuroo responded easily.

They strode past a few splits in the corridor, left turns that would take them toward the center of the city and the front gates-- precisely where they did not want to be. Their first right was the ticket toward the fringes of the city, and just as Kuroo stepped within the frame of the hallway he was met with the back of another officer. He stopped immediately, holding out his arm to signal the others to cease behind him as well. Oikawa and Kenma both went wide eyed and frozen, lips sealing around their breaths.

Kuroo tossed Iwa a quick look, which was met with a curt nod. He kept himself out of view and waited.

Kuroo turned down the hall, confident strides marking his pace and making it easier for him to smile his normal smile. He walked past the officer, didn't even glance at him. There was a single beat of silence, and then a small startled breath,

"Kuroo-taichou?"

Kuroo turned around, grin broad and simple, "Hey, what's going on?" He purposefully kept his eyes very trained on the officer's face.

"Oh, I didn't think you were working this section, sir."

"Oh, you know," Kuroo said, lending his weight to one hip, "plans change."

The officer tipped his head. Kuroo couldn't get himself to remember his name. Su-- no. Nami-- no. The guard's brow furrowed, "Who's patrolling the northern quadrant?"

Kuroo smiled, and he thought it might have looked a little apologetic, "Probably no one."

The officer opened his mouth to speak, but was instantly cut off by Iwaizumi's arm wrapping around his throat. His eyes blew wide, hands indecisive about whether to reach for the weapon at his waist or the arm around his neck.

"See, that indecision could get you killed kid," he said, watching his eyes flicker in and out of focus.

Seams of muscle cut into Iwaizumi's arm as he viced around the officer's neck. Iwa was watching him, watching the haze of his eyes and the flutter of his throat with a calculated calm washing over his features. Kuroo could practically see him counting-- or maybe he didn't need to count anymore. Maybe he could feel it in the rhythm of the other's breath on his arm.

Iwaizumi finally lowered him to the ground, setting him there gently. He glanced up at Kuroo, "You think he'll remember that advice when he wakes up?" He extended his arm to stretch his elbow.

Kuroo shrugged, "Hopefully for his sake."

"Hopefully it's something he never needs."

Oikawa popped his head around the corner, "As to be expected of our brute."

"Shut up Oikawa," Iwaizumi grumbled.

"Come on," Kuroo beckoned with a tilt of his head, "now we have to move quickly."

Kuroo set the pace and the tone, reaching around to grab the rifle he had slung over his shoulder. He didn't want to use it of course, but he honestly didn't expect to get out of this without a few guns pointed at him. He needed to be able to point back.

"How close?" Oikawa whispered, his eyes darting down each passage they left behind them.

"Close enough," Kuroo responded, taking the next left turn. This was the straight-away; this was their direct passage that led to the Quarantine area between the two gates.

Kuroo could feel his feet speeding with every passing second. His heart was moving too fast, breath heaving his chest. This had gone relatively smooth, too smooth, and knowing the air was about to open up to them and allow them out was--

"Kuroo," and there was a small tug at the back of his shirt. He turned around and Kenma had stopped and was glancing behind them, "Listen."

They all stilled. There was a small echo of a voice following the chirp of a walkie-talkie, " _\-- just found an officer incapacitated; take immediate action to seal the tunnels--_ "

The officer stepped into the corridor behind them with his thumb still squeezing against his walkie-talkie. His mouth dropped open. Iwa and Kuroo raised their guns.

Kuroo felt himself smiling again, hopefully in way that was literally disarming. "End the call," he suggested.

The officer took a step back. Iwa readied his arm and tilted his head. Oikawa's arm reached behind his back to tug an arrow out of his quiver.

"We don't want to hurt you or anyone," Kuroo added. "So please, just--"

The officer cocked his head to the side and spoke, "Sound the alarm, four infiltrators spotted in--"

Iwaizumi shot him in the knee.

"Shit!" the officer went down to the ground, hand compulsively flying away from the walkie-talkie and to the new wound in his leg. The sound of the alarm splintered through the night air, echoing through the tunnels and off the walls.

Kuroo sighed as he walked over to the officer who was attempting to reach for his handgun. Kuroo cracked him in the head with the butt of his rifle. He collapsed into the dirt heavy and wordless.

"New plan," Kuroo said as they all turned to look at each other, the alarm wailing in steady bleats. "And it sucks."

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut, "I liked the Kuroo Confidence better."

"I'm an optimist," Kuroo breathed, "not a liar." He pointed down the hall, "Directions in this situation will have two guards coming from where this one just came. We can't have them coming up behind us."

Iwa narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, "Kuroo, I don't really want to--"

"We're not going to kill anyone," Kuroo said. "Which is why you need to post at the junction before this one. I'll draw their attention so you can get them from behind."

Iwaizumi nodded and turned on his toes without second thought. Kuroo glanced at Oikawa and Kenma, "Stay off to the side. They're going to shoot at me." Kenma opened his mouth, but Kuroo cut him off, "It's fine. I'll be fine."

Oikawa was leaning against the wall while Kenma kept his gaze steady on Kuroo, almost as if having him within view would protect him somehow.

"If Iwa-chan gets hurt..." Oikawa's face was sagging into something as frightened as it was threatening.

"They won't notice him," Kuroo assured him, hand dropping to his belt. He tugged and lifted the most important piece of the diversion for Oikawa's eyes, "Because they'll be too busy staring at the guy with a grenade."

Oikawa and Kenma both looked a bit horrified.

"What?" Kuroo asked, tossing it once in his palm, "I'm not _actually_ going to blow them up."

Oikawa pinched his temples, "Kuroo stop toying with the explosive like it's a fruit in your lunch."

"Fine," Kuroo said, slipping his shoulder back through the strap of his rifle so he could aim his handgun with his other hand. "But it's just as explosive now as it was hooked to my belt."

Kuroo was rambling, but his mind wasn't connecting with any of it. Sweat was sliding down his neck to slip under the edge of his nylon vest, prickling at his hairline and sweeping a thin sheet of moisture over his forehead. He sniffled, huffing through his nose as he wiped at his brown and attempted to hear beyond the cry of the alarm. Iwa was already in place, completely out of Kuroo's sight. He had faith in Iwaizumi's ability to take them both out if they were distracted, but-- Kuroo's finger squeezed tighter around the trigger-- he would be here to make sure.

He heard the chirp of the walkie-talkie before he heard the voices. Then two men rounded the corner-- at least the bastards could be expected to follow protocol-- and when they saw Kuroo they both immediately fired a shot.

Kuroo winced, but both bullets missed him by a long shot. Most of the inner city officers were just normal people drafted for work. They wouldn't be well-trained with fire arms.  

"Hey now," Kuroo said, stretching his grin wide and coy to help hide the nervousness in his throat. "You sure you want to do that?" He held up the grenade.

They both stopped dead in their tracks, just beyond the corridor where Iwaizumi was stationed. "Where's the rest of your squad?" the one who had taken point called to him, voice gruff and angry.

Kuroo stuck out his lower lip, "I wonder."

Iwaizumi literally leapt at them, slamming the butt of his gun against the nearest one's cheek and dropping him before the other even had time to squeal. Which he did.

The officer's entire body lurched, swinging in a wide arc to point his gun at Iwaizumi. Kuroo vaguely shot his gun at the ground, which made the guard flinch. By the time the officer pulled the trigger Iwaizumi was cranking his rifle upward, cracking the guard under the chin. He grunted, stumbling forward with a wince still on his face, and Iwaizumi slammed his fist into the side of his head. He dropped to the ground like a bag of bricks.

Kuroo whistled.

Iwaizumi was panting as he jogged forward. The walkie-talkie of the previously brutalized officer sparked to life beside Kuroo, static chatter buzzing against the concrete: " _shots fired-- sighting in western tunnels--_ "

Oikawa frowned, "We're in the Easte--"

"That would be the officer I paid in ration cards to lie so he could feed his kid," Kuroo replied hurriedly. He was already reattaching the grenade to his belt and moving toward their destination. "Let's go. We don't have time to wait around."

They were all quiet. Gunshots and shouting were sprinkled over the drone of the alarm, probably the panicked reactions of new recruits. Kuroo was glad curfew was falling into full effect; no one would be on the streets to take on that finicky gunfire.

They finally came to a door, and when Kuroo's feet came to a halt it was difficult to control the shake in his fingers as he fumbled through his keys. He slid one into the lock, and when it clicked open he turned his head to the side and said in a low voice, "Stay on the walls."

He opened the door, revealing the wide open night sky. The outer wall had been torn apart and started to crumble, dipping down lower with every meter from the doorway. It gave them an open view of what was in front of them, the option to peer over concrete instead of through a doorway, but it also made it easier for them to be spotted. They all dipped low, pressing their shoulders against the wall. Oikawa glanced over it, then brought his chin back down. He didn't say anything.

"How many?" Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa swallowed, "Four."

Kuroo blinked, fingers tapping against his rifle.

"All armed," Oikawa added. "All within plain view of each other."

Kuroo bit at his lip. No taking them down silently, then.

Iwaizumi looked at Kuroo as pointless gunfire popped on the other side of the encampment. "How much time until they realize, you think?" he asked.

Kuroo wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, "Not much."

Oikawa pulled an arrow from his quiver, hand gripping tight around his bow.

"Listen, guys," Kuroo said, leg shaking under the weight of his crouch at the tension pulling his muscles tight, "if this has to get ugly--"

Oikawa's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped into something deep and threatening, "Then this gets ugly."

Kuroo felt sweat roll down the side of his face, his heart as loud in his ears as the sirens hailing their escape. Kenma laid his hand on Kuroo's thigh and squeezed it once. Kuroo looked at him and found an immense amount of calm in his eyes. Kuroo sighed.

_Then it gets ugly_.

 

III

Akaashi was going to chew a hole through his lip.

He was pacing in his apartment, back and forth, back and forth, biting at the tip of his thumb before running his hand along the counter.

_'I won't go either.'_

Akaashi's feet paused over the tile. _Why?_

He couldn't wrap his mind around it, couldn't get himself to understand Bokuto's logic. Well, that's because there wasn't any. Akaashi was firmly convinced of that by now; Bokuto never once attempted to further explain himself and instead just opted to smile a bit too-grand at Akaashi while he'd made him lunch.

_'I'm going to stay.'_

Akaashi clenched his hand into a fist at his side. **_Why?_**

He ran his fingers back through his hair, sighing in mental exhaustion. His eyes slid over to the line of picture frames on his shelf, to the dilapidated spine of a book that he'd had read to him time and time again. Bokuto didn't have a line of picture frames. Bokuto didn't have a weathered old book. Bokuto had best friends, and they were all going to leave this place and he was staying behind.

Akaashi's head tipped back on his shoulders and he stared at the ceiling. He could feel it, creeping up his spine and settling a heavy prickling sensation at the back of his tongue.

Guilt.

Akaashi felt his eyebrows drawing together as his lips pinched closed.

_Tap tap tap_.

Akaashi jolted around, heel squeaking on the floor as his eyes went wide. Bokuto didn't wait for an answer of course; he simply thrust open the shaky pane of glass with one hand and smiled bright enough to edge all of the shadows off his face.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi breathed, the words rushing from his lungs like a heavy sigh of relief.

Bokuto actually jerked backward in his perch on the windowsill at the greeting, his mouth dropping open a little and face flushing bright in surprise. He blinked down, eyelashes fluttering as he pulled his other leg through the window, "Um, Akaashi." His smile snapped wide across his face, a tell that he was nervous although for what Akaashi didn't know, "Hey."

Akaashi walked over to him, deciding to forgo his normal commentary about why in the hell Bokuto was crawling through his window when curfew hadn't quite hit yet.

"Man," Bokuto said, straightening his back and brushing the sensation of brick off his palms, "I think that was a personal best."

When Bokuto said things like that Akaashi's face sometimes couldn't decide whether to sneer or smile, and it got stuck in a disbelieving expression that always made Bokuto grin.

"Why so down Akaashi?" Bokuto asked, mindlessly wandering over to the table and running his fingers over the cover of Akaashi's notebook. His thumb caught at the edge, but he didn't flip it open. He knew better.

"Down?" Akaashi asked, eyes taking in the multitude of tiny cuts across Bokuto's knuckles, "I'm not down."

Bokuto blinked up at him, natural smile falling into something considering, "Oh? Your forehead is doing that thing."

Akaashi furrowed his brow, "What thing?"

Bokuto laughed, turning to lean against the table and settle his arms across his chest, " _That_ thing."

Akaashi brought his hands up to grind his fingertips against his eyes. He needed to reset.

When his hands dropped back down by his side and his vision cleared, Bokuto was cocking his head at Akaashi like he was the most interesting thing in the room.

Or maybe, rather than reset...

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi started, voice probably a little too earnest in contrast with the generally airy nature of Bokuto's expression. "Can we talk about something?"

Bokuto blinked a few times, real quick like a bird, and hopped onto the table. He pushed the seat next to it out with his foot, palms pressing against the surface of the table as he gazed at Akaashi with patient expectancy.

Akaashi blinked down at the seat, then moved over to it, settling into it with ease. Once seated Bokuto started kicking his feet where they hung off the table.

"It's about the whole, 'leave the Zone' thing," he began, words careful and calculated like he was dealing with a child.

Something slid around behind Bokuto's eyes, but he managed to hold his face in place. In fact, his face was almost too non-responsive. "What about it?" he asked.

Something about that sent a chill down Akaashi's spine. Seeing Bokuto be anything but overwhelmingly genuine was a bit strange. "About you not going," Akaashi answered, focusing on the pale gold of Bokuto's gaze. "I want to know why."

Bokuto's face seemed to relax at that, and his mouth sloshed into a smile, "I already told you."

Akaashi's face went a little red with angry heat, "You said _I_ was the reason."

Bokuto slouched forward on his perch, feet still kicking, "Yeah."

Akaashi's face hooked into irritation, and it was audible in his voice, "Bokuto-san that doesn't make any _sense_."

He leaned back a little this time, confused, "Why?"

"Because," Akaashi said, hand moving as he spoke, "your best friends are going. This was a plan you've had awhile."

Bokuto gave a big noncommittal shrug, "Things change."

He was dancing around the real reason, skirting around the meat of things on purpose, Akaashi could _feel_ it. " _I_ can't go," Akaashi elaborated, hands clenching into fists in frustration. "I have memories here, there's sentiment here, and I don't want to abandon it." He connected with Bokuto's gaze and held his eyes there, unwavering, "But you don't, Bokuto. You could leave and do something outside these walls." _Because maybe I thought about it, and maybe the idea isn't as awful as it sounds._

Bokuto was staring at him, face unchanging. His voice left his throat completely level, "So you're staying for a ghost." Akaashi's heart stopped. He felt his eyes go wide, uncertain if Bokuto was purposefully trying to be cruel or just being blunt. Then his next words contained the answer, "If you can stay for some ghosts, why can't I stay for you?"

Akaashi felt his shoulders unwind. His entire body deflated, fingers going lax and unfeeling like they might in death. His mouth gaped open just a bit, breath and words drying up in his throat. Bokuto stared at him.

No words.

Bokuto's lips curled into a soft smile as he leaned back forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and forcing the table to creak under his weight, "Pretty simple huh?"

_No. Less simple. Maybe, probably, less simple._

Bokuto's eyes slid to the side, and Akaashi could see in the divisive cut of light reflecting in his eyes that he was gazing out the window. He seemed thoughtful, and maybe a little tense. "It's really dark tonight," he said. "Pitch black."

Akaashi could feel the buzz of stunned silence in his head. But this is what happened last time, this is what _always_ happens; Bokuto throws him entirely off kilter with simple words and a simpler smile and Akaashi is just left open mouthed and staring. Not again. Not tonight.

"Why."

Bokuto tilted his head back toward Akaashi, expression unguarded in the dim light.

"Why, Bokuto-san," Akaashi repeated. "Why are you staying for me?"

Bokuto shifted, leaning so far forward that he was folding in on himself to level his gaze with Akaashi's. His expression was placid, calm and warm like always, but it was obvious he was deep in thought. It looked like he was diving in Akaashi's eyes and trying to find something there. Akaashi stared back, almost winded.

That's when Bokuto smiled, touched his fingers to Akaashi's chin, and leaned forward to press their lips together.

Akaashi stopped breathing, and when he finally remembered that oxygen was important his inhale shook, whirring against Bokuto's skin and drawing in more of his scent. Bokuto's mouth was fitted around Akaashi's lower lip, and Akaashi could taste him, the sweet salty sunkissed flavor blooming against his mouth like the heat in his cheeks.

Akaashi's head was a void, empty space, and he couldn't tell if his feet were touching the ground anymore. His spatial existence was anchored to the heat of Bokuto's lips and fingertips, and the rest of his body was in some fuzzy suspension that he didn't care about.

Bokuto pulled away, and Akaashi was glad that he was stunned into stillness because otherwise he probably would have leaned forward to recapture that mouth.

Bokuto's eyes slid open, the motion sluggish. His hand dropped away from Akaashi's chin slowly, slower than any movements Bokuto ever made, and he leaned back in his seat. Then his grin overtook his face, the one he uses to paint over nervousness, and his neck flushed red.

That beaming smile felt like a punch straight to Akaashi's gut. Or maybe his chest.

Bokuto stood quickly then, popping off the table and heading toward the window, "Well I better be off." His limbs swung around a little too much, like they were bristling with just a bit more energy than was acceptable.

Akaashi opened his mouth around a dry syllable.

Bokuto hiked one leg onto the windowsill, "Have a good night Akaashi."

"Bokuto-san wait," Akaashi said, using all his strength and willpower to stand straight and sudden.

Bokuto glanced over to him, but then they were both startled into silence by the shrill peal of an alarm. Shouting could be heard from outside the open window, echoing off the empty streets. Engines purred, the hefty cough of over-large military vehicles, and the alarm strung itself constant through the night.

Akaashi's heart started racing. What was that? What could that--

There was a crack, no, a _string_ of cracking noises tripping over one another, like the twisting of bubble wrap or the full readjustment of a spine.

Bokuto's lips parted as he stared out the window, and he fully withdrew himself back into the apartment. The shouting grew louder, more fierce, and there was the sound of more far-off bursts. Succinct. One at a time.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi whispered. "What is that?"

Bokuto turned his head to look at Akaashi, and when he did he had a smile on his face. It was a sad one, "That's the sound of our friends getting shot at."

 

IV

The shock of the alarm instantly sparked in Kageyama's heart and shot all the way down to his feet. He stopped mid-stride, mind reeling. Everyone around him erupted into a frenzy. There was shouting, commands, vehicles brought to life. People were moving into action before they even knew what was happening, before they even had orders.

Then there was gunfire.

Kageyama felt his heart and lungs seizing. Gunfire. _Gunfire?_

Nekomata was marching past Kageyama when his walkie-talkie crackled to life, "-- attempting to escape the walls."

Kageyama went still, eyes blowing wide.

Nekomata's answer was succinct, "If they're using force then use force back."

"Yessir."

_Hinata_.

Kageyama's feet were moving quicker than his mind. Nekomata was still heading toward the gate, toward the gunfire, but Kageyama branched off, slipping between apartment buildings. He hadn't spoken to Hinata in days. He hadn't even _seen_ him, didn't know, couldn't stop...

His eyes flickered upward, and he was delving into his memory, counting. One two three... three floors up, and...

_Think_. Kageyama's legs were still moving even as his eyes pinched shut. He felt his eyes rolling back in his head as he remembered the golden flicker of light, the signal flare he had always looked for to make sure Hinata had gotten home safe, not that Hinata realized Kageyama was doing such an idiotic thing...

Kageyama's face was burning in anger at himself. **_Remember_** _._

One two three... four... four windows from the west side? Was that right?

Kageyama felt his breaths going ragged. He shoved past the front doors to the apartment complex and took the stairs two at a time, thick soled boots hitting hard and heavy against the metal steps.

Meanwhile the alarm was still ringing, and gunshots were still spattering the night air. It couldn't be, could it? Would he have...

Kageyama thrust the stairwell door open and he stomped into the third floor corridor.

Would he have left without saying goodbye?

Kageyama stopped in front of the apartment. Four doors from the west side. This was right. Maybe.

He knocked, a bit too hard because his hands were shaking and there was unbridled fear shivering up his arms. But wait, even if they didn't leave would anyone answer the door past curfew?

Kageyama's body was moving ahead of his thoughts again, because instead of calling out to whoever was or was not behind the door, he took a step back, thrust all of his energy into one leg, and sent the door flying open with one kick.  

The trim around the locking mechanism splintered as the door flung open, spraying bits of painted wood as it tore the metal from the doorframe.

The first thing that caught Kageyama's eyes was Sugawara-sensei, who almost flew backward in his seat at the dining table. The next was the person sitting across from him, whose hand was flying back and withdrawing a knife lightning quick from his belt and _wow_ that blade was definitely large and _definitely_ not military issue.

"Kageyama-kun?" Suga wheezed, hand pressing against his chest as he attempted to catch his breath.

Kageyama opened his mouth, blinking, and then narrowed his eyes at the person with Suga. He looked so familiar, so--

"Wait, Kageyama-kun?" he asked, the thick blade of his knife winking in the light as he relaxed his arm. His entire left arm had the scrawling black outline of a tribal tattoo and _oh_. Well that made it pretty obvious.

"Sawamura-san," Kageyama greeted weakly. He was the mechanic for the army vehicles.

That's when a bob of orange hair appeared from around a corner.

" _Hinata_ ," Kageyama breathed, everything else falling into unimportance. Then his voice went thick and angry, rising into something like an accusative shout, "I thought you had left!"

Hinata jumped, and when Suga turned to shoot Hinata a quick glance he jumped again.

" _Hinata_ ," Suga chastised, "you _told_ him?"

Hinata was blinking back and forth from the ground and Suga's face. He wiggled around a bit, then finally said, "Well... it was just Kageyama..."

Suga blinked, then turned his gaze to Kageyama. He looked fearful.

"Oh," Kageyama said, holding up his hands, "I'm not here to arrest you or anything." _Especially when Sawamura is holding that knife._ "I just wanted to make sure..." Kageyama's voice trailed off, but the thought was completed by the quick pop of gunfire from outside.

Suga sighed, arm resting against the table to prop up his head.

"Did you change your mind?" Kageyama asked, glancing between the three of them.

"Well, not exactly," Suga answered, and when his voice returned to normal so did Sawamura's stance. He lowered himself back into his seat, flipping his blade in his grasp to slide it back into the holster. "Last night I got a patient in," Suga explained to Kageyama, eyes kind but a little more tired than usual, "who would have died if I would have left tonight. I'm the only one who can treat them right now."

Kageyama's eyes fell to the floor, the scattered splinters of wood crunching as he shifted his weight, "Oh."

Hinata dipped his head to gaze up under the tilt of Kageyama's chin, "Were you going to come with us?"

Suga and Sawamura both posted their gazes firmly to Kageyama's face, and he felt his insides stir.

"I..." he bit into his lip. No, right? _Right?_

"Well that plan's shot in the foot for now anyway," Sawamura said, leaning back in his seat. His arms were still smeared with soot and oil. He must have worked a bit today.

"I didn't realize you and Sugawara-sensei had agreed to condense living spaces," Kageyama said, glancing at Sawamura. "That's very generous of you."

Sawamura blinked at him and Suga gave a stifled laugh from across the table. Kageyama didn't understand why.

"Right," Sawamura said with a fond smile and a nod. "Generous."

"I'm sorry I frightened you," Kageyama apologized with a bow. "I was just worried about your safety."

"It's okay," Suga said, tossing a quick glance at Hinata over his shoulder. Hinata's face went red.

" _Well,_ " Sawamura started, and Kageyama snapped back to attention. "I appreciate your concern and all, Kageyama-kun, but--" his eyes slid over to the doorway, then back to Kageyama's face before his voice dropped an octave, "you better get me a new door."

"Oh," Kageyama flinched in place, "Of course sir."

Sawamura smiled, but it looked a lot more threatening than it did warm, "Good kid."

Suga slapped his arm across the table, "Daichi stop."

Kageyama barely noticed. He was too busy looking at Hinata and thanking the gods that he was safe.

 

V

"I really didn't think they'd shoot at us this much," Oikawa said over the crackling of gunfire at his back. They were all still lined up against the deteriorating concrete wall, banking on the fact that no one was entirely certain of where they were.

"Just think if they knew we were taking the Zone's botanist," Kuroo said, face starting to even out once more. "Then they'd be _really_ pissed."

Iwa-chan tilted his head to glance at Kuroo, "Do you think if we offered to trade them Oikawa for our freedom they'd go for it?"

Oikawa gasped, "Hey!"

Kuroo's mouth pulled down thoughtfully, "Maybe, you want to try and take him hostage?"

" _I_ ," Oikawa said, nocking his arrow against his bowstring, "am the best here at stealth weaponry. Good luck taking a town filled with clickers with your assault rifles, assholes."

"Woah woah," Kuroo said, holding up his hands, "so hostile."

"My big question is what on _Earth_ do they think they're shooting at on the other side of the Zone?" Iwaizumi said, eyes blinking as he listened to the far off sounds of bullets.

Oikawa slid to the edge of the wall, tipping his gaze over the concrete. Between them and the gate there were four soldiers: two on the ground, one at the gate, and another on a wooden watch post above the gate.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa asked, shoulders going flush with the wall once more. "How accurate do you think you are with that thing?" his eyes fell down to regard the pistol in Iwa-chan's grasp.

Iwa-chan's eyebrow twitched upward, "How accurate are you with your bow?"

Oikawa's fingers curled around his bowstring, "Accurate enough, if I can actually take a moment to aim."

Kuroo leaned his head against the concrete, staring up at the sky, "The moment we move forward to aim they'll see us."

Kenma was rifling through his bag as Oikawa glanced back around the wall. "The longer we wait the more likely they are to send reinforcements," Oikawa reminded them, keeping the urging out of his voice as much as possible.

Iwa-chan was staring at the opposite wall, eyes focused on the view he had in his head rather than the one before his eyes, "Oikawa, take the one on the watch tower while Kuroo and I take the two on the ground."

Oikawa's eyes slid over to him, "You're going to get shot at."

Iwa-chan gave a small shrug, "Probably."

Kenma had pulled a bottle out of his bag and was firmly stuffing a rag in the top. His eyes rose to the three of them. "Get them in your sights," he directed simply before moving to walk back through the door that lead into the tunnels.

Iwa-chan opened his mouth, "What is he--"

"Just aim," Kuroo directed, taking a quick step to the side and lifting his rifle.

Oikawa pointed his arrow at the ground as he drew it back, shoulders tightening and fitting together as the string gave way beneath his fingers. Then there was a crash from near the first gate, and the gulping roar of fire.

All of the guards pivoted their attention toward the explosion, weapons raised and eyes focused.

_Thank you Kenma_.

Oikawa, Iwa-chan, and Kuroo all took one large step around their cover, aimed, and fired.

Oikawa's inhale found his target and his exhale loosed his arrow, bowstring snapping away from his fingers and arrow hissing quick and quiet through the air. It hit firmly at the watchtower guard's shoulder, to which he groaned and staggered, the sound almost lost to the small chorus of gunfire beside him.

Kuroo and Iwa-chan each allowed one shot; Kuroo's rifle took the farther guard and sunk into the meat of his shoulder, his guiding arm dropping limp by his side. Iwa-chan's bullet tore open the closest guard's elbow, and the scream he let off was shattered and gruesome. There wasn't even a breath between them squeezing the triggers of their weapons and their feet springing forward. Iwa-chan lurched toward his guard, and when he raised his pistol to Iwa-chan he was greeted with a firm kick to the side of the knee, an elbow to the jaw, and the mumbled words, "don't make me blow off your kneecap."

Oikawa nocked a new arrow, taking aim at the guard at the gate along with Kuroo, who was taking long-legged strides toward the whimpering officer with a new hole in his shoulder. 

Iwa-chan yanked the gun from his target's grasp and shoved it in his belt as Kuroo bent over to pick up the discarded weapon next to his charge, all the while keeping his rifle aimed at the man at the entrance.

"Open the gate," Kuroo called, all three of them now training their sights on him.

The officer's eyes were wide and his hands were shaking, weapon rattling in his hold as he twitched from one enemy to the other. The bowstring dug in against Oikawa's fingers. It would feel so good to just let his arrow fly, to pop open the line of tension shivering in his forearms.

"Come on," Kuroo said as all three of them drew in closer, killing the distance between them and their way out.

That's when Kenma appeared from behind Oikawa, moving to join them. The guard's eyes caught him, and his upper body snapped to take aim at Kenma. Kuroo shot him in the leg.

" _Aaahg, Jesus--_ " he crumpled over, grabbing at the wound on his thigh as dark crimson bloomed up to stain his fatigues.

"See that wasn't very nice," Kuroo said, eyes narrowing. "He wasn't aiming a gun at you. Don't aim a gun at him."

Kenma was silent beside Oikawa, both of them slightly drawn back from Kuroo and Iwa-chan.

"My arm's getting tired," Oikawa called to them. "Open the gate or I'll loose an arrow into your gut just to give my arm a rest."

The guard raised his gaze to Oikawa, eyes pulled apart into disbelief and fear. He reached up and slammed open the lever to unlock the gate. Kuroo's lips sliced upward into an uneven grin, pleased and wicked.

Oikawa's fingers curled tighter around his bowstring, holding it firm as he brought it back to neutral. He popped the arrow off the string and blindly shoved it into the quiver at his back.

"Thank you," Kuroo said cordially, giving the guard a polite nod before Iwa-chan and he worked to heave the gate open.

The guard just glared at him, lip shaking in anger and fear and probably blood loss.

"Don't worry," Oikawa said cheerfully as he and Kenma walked up beside him. "Koushi can fix you up real nice."

The officer responded with a venomous sneer before Kuroo beckoned to them, nodding his head toward the gate. In the distance Oikawa could hear shouting within the Zone growing nearer.

"Alright boys," Kuroo said as they all slid through the opening in the gate. Iwa-chan and Kuroo shoved it closed again, and on the other side Oikawa heard the chirp of the guard's walkie-talkie. Kuroo grinned as he slung the strap of his gun over his shoulder and said, "Run."

It was an easy order, and they all took it.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should there be a "Your favorites cause injury to others" tag?? Because that happens... a lot...
> 
>  
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> <http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/>


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